Side Story - Cameron Agnor: Misty Woods
Even the creatures of Queensdale were silent in the early hours of the morning, still slumbering as the last silvery rays of moonlight faded in preparation for the rising of the sun. Even the slight creak of the bridge beneath his boots seemed too much noise for the tranquility of the morning; the sound seeming to vanish into the mist that settled over Altar Brook, the Heartwood, and even as far out as Claypool.
“Agnor!” Illuminated against the mist and darkness, a Seraph in his gold and steel armor stepped out from behind one of the log palisade walls. An average looking man, the soldier was one of several stationed at the Trading Post to protect it from Centaur raids and bandits. “Out to try your hand at bagging Melandru’s Stag again?”
Groaning, Cameron wished that he hadn’t made his ‘Melandru’s Stag’ joke to the man after his most recent failure at hunting down an older, grey stag with at least twenty points on his antlers. Sighing, he pulled the mask from his face and grinned at Lieutenant Pracht. “That’s right LT.”
Even nearly two years out of the Seraph, he found it difficult not to adopt old habits when speaking with other Seraph, especially ranking officers. Their first meeting had been tense, with leathers and metal gear dyed dark green and red, and large bones from Centaurs and Rock Dogs decorating his outfit. Held at sword point under suspicion of being one of the local bandits, only his dog tags had spared him a much worse confrontation.
“Well, just be careful out there. We’ve already had three small raids tonight, so I’m guessing the Centaurs are gonna be all over the countryside today.”
“Centaurs I can handle Lieutenant,” slipping the mask back over his face, he once again blended in with the environment, save for his eyes and his red hair, which verged on black. Crossing out over the second bridge, he made his way towards the Heartwoods, a large forest to the east of Claypool.
In the woods, he was surrounded by stillness. Unlike his past few hunts he had left his twin ravens; Abigail the Black, and Mirrim the White, at home with Renita this time. Even their chirping distracted him, despite how comforting it was to have them with him. To track down this stag, blessed by the Goddess Melandru, he would need every skill learned in his years stationed out in Harathi.
It had only taken three of four months for him to realize that his ear was uniquely tuned to the sounds that echoed through the ground. Not that he could tell where a rabbit was burrowed, or if there were valuable metals in caves beneath the surface. He could however, tell if hooves struck the ground at some distance from him, informing him as a soldier if a Centaur were around a corner or over a hill.
Kneeling, he pressed his ear and hand to the ground, damp from the morning dew and mist. Closing his eyes, he listened for anything out of the ordinary. For over ten minutes he knelt there, hearing only the occasional deep rumble of an Oakheart moving farther in the woods. Keeping his breathing shallow, he finally heard a softer rumble; a lighter creature and one much closer to him than the distant Oakheart’s. Rising, he drew the bow from his back and began moving among the trees, sharp green eyes studied every detail around him ready to catch any sign of movement.
Every step he took was light, placed on the ground only after assuring there were no branches or dry patches of grass that would give away his position. Already he had made up his mind about what he would do when he finally tracked down the grey stag; now he only needed to find his prey…
