@fellstung
The hunter sat perfectly unmoving atop a thick tree branch in the flooded forest. One leg was propped up on it while the other hung low, and his hands were hidden away beneath a hooded poncho that smelled of earth and vines ( its coloration also resembled the forest ). His eyes, meanwhile, were angled straight down beyond the bushes and beyond the shortest blades of grass at something so small that he could be misconstrued to be obsessing over nothing at all. But he wasn't.
Down there on the ground at nearly the smallest fraction the naked eye could perceive, there was a certain beetle on the prowl. It was different from the ones he had witnessed in the New World, with a thinner frame and even thinner legs but so profoundly unlike the hercudrome for example, which lumbered about on thick legs carrying a thick shell. This one skittered around so strikingly quick that he could miss it in one flutter of the lids. First hand, he noted the advantage of its numerous legs. It could move in any direction at any moment without the need to turn to face that way.
Terrifying, he thought, remembering how he had learned to prepare for a Diablos charge when it turned around to face him. What, then, is he to do if a wyvern need not face him to attack? For the time being, he was completely uncertain but the focus in his mellow eyes was unrelenting. For a mind like his, it was only a matter of time before he had the answer.
When it hit him, he finally moved. His mouth opened to form a wide O and his eyebrows arched on high.
"Ahhhh . . . I see now!"
He exclaimed in a whisper and finally changed up his posture, leaning closer without regard for alerting it. Thankfully, it continued, hunting for an ant that had strayed from the rest of the workers. The more he watched, the clearer it became to him that it never pursued at full speed consistently, rather stopping occasionally to redirect itself and continue the chase. It couldn't compensate for changes in the motions of its prey as it sped towards them, and therein was its weakness. Novus settled, smiling and resting his chin atop his palm as he watched pensively, not too different from the first time he ever sat around a fire and listened to a recital of the Tale of the Five.
In the end, he released a breath and was interrupted by the sensation of a small weight landing and balancing on the ball of his knee. Glancing at the culprit, he was met by a felyne ( it is a tabby cat ) with a pair of sharp, perceptive eyes. This one was named Three-eyes, because the reaction-diffusion patterns in the stripes over his forehead had strangely enough formed a vague appearance of an eye.
He wasn't alone. Two other felynes settled on neighboring branches, each of them keeping a close eye on the surroundings while their hunter studied the insects. Someone had to care for him whenever he had tunnel vision.
“Meow’re going to be late. Kamewra is probably already meowndering about you.”
