IC - The Hunt

Podreg slowly nods, and sighs. "You're right," he says, "I am torn apart by what has happened. I will tell you that Dommic has a favorite hunting spot, where he goes to think as much as hunt. It is that way, half a day's walking to a precipice about thirty feet high that has a good view for deer and boar. The trail is faintly marked by old blazons on the trees, a symbol of four slashes like a bear's claws. The entrance to the trail is by that pair of birch trees and the rock."

The branches above you are bare but for frost, the dry leaves crackle under the hooves. Damir's steed will not go beyond a slow trot, being weighed by two adult men. Still it is quicker than walking.

Morning sunlight, out of a harsh blue sky, sends your shadows wavering over the trunks and leaves ahead. The ground slopes gradually upward. The trail is marked enough that you can follow. It runs as straight as any woodland trail might do, that is, it swerves around some little bogs and potholes and one gigantic dead tree, but mostly in a line.

When the sun is a bit past halfway up the sky behind you, and your horses are getting hot, they pause to drink from a stream where drifts of mist rise into the chilly air.

High above, a pair of eagles duel.

As Damir looks away from the stream, he sees something like the precipice that Podreg mentioned, about a bowshot away.

And then something punches Damir hard in the shoulder ... looking down in startlement, he sees the shaft of an arrow sticking out of himself. Then he moves a little and feels the head of the arrow grate against his shoulder ball, and feels the pain.

As far as anyone can tell, the arrow came from the precipice.

Damir sways in the saddle then somehow slides down on the side away from the likely source of arrows. The horse shies and neighs.

What do you all do now?

Quintus sees a movement on the precipice....

Abruptly, an arrow splinters and bounces off the top of the boulder behind which Danill crouches.

There is no voice to answer your hails.