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A Strange Wind Blows
Frost 13 119
Iakovos pulled back the string of the bow and the rabbit died. Shot through its broadside, the body went limp and he grunted, pulling himself further into the brush where the trap was set and crouched to work on the mechanisms. Blood speckled the fallen leaves and he tried to move quickly, slipping his hand inside and enclosing the soft body in his palm, more red smearing his fingers. He muttered curses in Kokalath, regretful of the messy kill but set about skinning it, dragging his blade over its fur as the skin split like butter. Rabbits always had thin skin, it was what made them so easy to kill and so hard to get a good fur. The hunter slipped two fingers in the bloody slit and worked it away from the meat, and gently ripped it back, so that raw sinew was exposed. Fussing with the legs, he clenched his jaw, grabbed the last joint in each hand and snapped the bone, creating the segment he needed to cut the foot of. Clearing the fur, he tied the kill to his waist, along with two others from the morning and examined his arrow for damage.
Satisfied, Iakovos reset the trap and trudged back towards camp, knowing he would have to clean away the scent of blood before another animal would wander that way again.
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