Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt
CRACKLE. The noise alerts me to the closeness of my prey. I crouch and slither through the sweeping mountain grass, getting ever nearer to the source of my hunt. I soon reach a break in the trees, and there, in the middle of the clearing, is the Manticore. Nothing I can't handle.
As I'm reaching for my silver bow, the beast turns toward my general direction, as if he knows I am here. In less then a second, I let fly half a dozen arrows. They all hit their mark and if the Manticore didn't know I wasn't here, he does now.
I jump in the air as he releases a volley a spikes. One grazes my ankle and ichor dribbles down into my leather boot. I return the creature's assault with twenty arrows. Eighty percent of them hit home. My enemy bellows with rage and pain and I know I almost have him. But then he suddenly jumps forward and lands directly on top of me!
I get impaled, stabbed, scraped, and cut in at least a dozen places. By now my blood is flowing freely. But then it all ends. I stab him in the back and push now lifeless body off of my own. I stand up and dust myself off. I now reek of the Manticore's carcass. Oh well, that's what happens when you hunt. I pick up my bow, grab one of the Manticore's prized spikes, and then I'm running, running off into the moonlit forest.