Another cheetah, a light, brown cloak draped over his shoulders, clutched a wooden longbow in his right hand. Hunter's eyes became fixed upon the tip of the arrow, aimed right at his fast beating heart. His assailant looked him over, studying him.

"Don't shoot." He said as calmly as he could muster. Hunter wisely raised his hands in the air, slowly but steadily placing them on top of his head, avoiding any sudden movements that would cause the red eyed cheetah to send the arrow into his chest.

"Get down on your knees, now!" The archer paced toward him, eyeing Hunter warily. Hunter kept his eyes on the advancing cheetah, ready to react if the arrow was fired at him. The young archer's arm began to shake a bit, strained with the exertion it took to keep the arrow pulled back on the bowstring for so long. Finally, the other cheetah broke the awkward silence.

"Who're you?" He spat angrily. He took two more steps toward Hunter, keeping his aim on Hunter, who was getting on his knees. "What're you doin' here?"

"I'm just traveling through." He lied. He dearly hoped that the archer wouldn't recognize him…

"Yer a damn liar. Where are your traveling supplies, huh?" He got even closer, sneering. Hunter sank, knowing that he had been caught lying. He gulped.

"Put your bow on the ground." He stopped his advance. "And no tricks. I'll put an arrow in ya!"

Hunter complied, taking the bow off of his back with his left hand, keeping the dagger in the sleeve of his right arm pressed against his wrist.

"I'll ask you again," he said in a menacing tone, "Why are you here in my woods?"

Despite his predicament, Hunter scoffed slightly. "Your woods? Last time I checked, these woods didn't belong to anyone."

The young cheetah grew very angry at this reply, curling his lip into a sneer. He hesitated before speaking.

"These woods do too belong to me. I've got a house in these parts, and this here's my land. And you're trespassing on it." He made his voice deeper as he said this, trying to make himself seem older than he was. Hunter suppressed a smile as he noticed this.

"You… have a house? But you're only a child." Seconds afterwards he regretted speaking this, knowing that he was only antagonizing the archer further with each comment he made. This quick retort infuriated the red eyed figure, but he stopped himself from firing the arrow in anger. As he looked Hunter over, he suddenly recognized the face of the intruder, his eyes widening for a moment. Upon realizing who he was, the adolescent smiled.

"Only a child, huh? Ha, well this child saved your life last night!" He said stingingly.

This comment caused Hunter to grow very worried, knowing for sure that he had been recognized. And, to make matters worse, he also knew that the young figure was right. Even though he was still quite young, it was because of him that Hunter was still alive and breathing. His already dry mouth now felt like cotton.

"Now," He took two steps forward as he spoke, "I think you should get out of here. That is, unless you want me to send this arrow into your lying, filthy hide." He said coldly.

As he looked to the ground in front of him, Hunter realized he had been defeated. He had been caught unawares, and according to the archer, he was trespassing as well. And it certainly didn't help that he had insulted this stranger, either. In fact, it was a wonder that he hadn't already been shot. Without making any sudden movements, he got up from his kneel, still keeping his hands on his head. Just as he was about to reach for his bow, the archer motioned toward the ground with a quick nod of his head.

"No. You leave that here. Put your quiver on the ground, too," he said with a toothy smile of triumph.

Hunter froze, steam almost visibly coming out of his ears. It was at this point when Hunter wished he could wrap his hands around that little brat's throat. Not only had he been humiliated by someone much younger than himself, but now he had to leave the place unarmed. He had never felt so angry in all his life. Nonetheless, he did what the archer commanded. He looked at his quiver of arrows, lying on the ground beside his longbow. The cloaked cheetah couldn't bear to leave them there, but he had no choice. He glowered at his tormentor. Oh, how he wanted to kill that impudent little whelp…

"Move yourself. Go back to where you came from, old man." He stepped toward Hunter. "And I better not see you around here again, you here me?" His voice cracked as it rose in pitch, but he made an effort to hide it by hastily repeating, "Do you hear me?"

Hunter nodded. The young bowman jerked his head in the direction where the now unarmed cheetah had come from.

"Run along, now." He said mockingly. Hunter glanced one more time at his bow and arrows on the dirt before he took several backward paces, keeping his eyes on the arrow that was still pointing at him accusingly.

"Run." The archer commanded. And Hunter did just that; he turned tail and ran back up the river, half expecting the arrow to enter his back. Only moments after he had started to flee, he disappeared from view, the sound of the steady thudding of his paws hitting the ground beginning to fade away. The archer relaxed his bowstring; still examining the woods, making sure the other cheetah wasn't pulling any tricks. He stooped down, picked up the bow and quiver, and slung the bow over his back. He picked up the quiver of arrows by the leather strap, and scurried away in the opposite direction that Hunter had gone, his cloak making him a part of the environment as he vanished into the forest.

…

Hunter could not believe his misfortune. He had been caught unawares, humiliated, robbed, and insulted by someone only half his age. It was inconceivable to him how he could have been so irresponsible as to let this happen.

He had stopped running a long way back, stomping through the trees, smacking the vines and twigs aside. He was constantly glancing behind him, making sure he was not being followed. Satisfied that he wasn't, he kept on, taking out some of his frustration on the foliage in his way. He had also stuck his knife into the sheath in his boot, hardly grateful that he had at least one weapon left on him.

There was no way that child was going to get away with this, Hunter thought. The cheetah would look like a fool if he returned without his trusty longbow in hand.

Without warning, he stopped dead in his tracks, gazing through the leaves of the many trees to notice the sky was turning pink.

The sun was already setting, and nighttime was sure to be here in less than an hour. As a result, Hunter began to plan ahead, taking a seat on the ground. He turned to face the direction of the river, keeping watch over the forest, seeking his foe, but he did not find him. Hunter waited for the night, his fingers nervously toying with the hilt of the knife in his boot.

Finally, the sun set below the horizon, leaving behind a pale pink sky that began to morph into black.

This was what Hunter had been waiting for. He whipped out the dagger from his boot, and rose into a crouch. He snuck off into the nighttime woods, making as little noise as he could.

He was going to get his bow and arrows back.

…

Meadow stirred the rabbit stew over the fire, savoring the delectable aroma as it wafted upward. He tossed in a pawfull of salt and pepper, stirring it slowly to make the natural flavors come out. It had been awhile since he had a meal like this, and his mouth watered with anticipation. He called out to Prowlus.

"It's almost ready!" He took out a small spoon from his shirt pocket and dipped it into the soup. He brought it too his lips, blowing on it to cool it down before taking a taste. He licked his lips, and put the spoon back in his shirt pocket.

"It's still got a little while to go," he told himself. He stopped stirring it, leaving the ingredients to simmer. More and more began to join him around the pot, waiting for the delicious meal to be ready, many with bowls in hand. He smiled as Prowlus walked up to join him, his eyes focused on the stew.

"Is…is it ready now?" he stuttered. Meadow noticed the longing expression on the chief's face and chuckled.

"Yes, it's ready, I suppose." He stood up, cupping his hands over his mouth and shouting, "Come and get it!"

Almost immediately, everybody in the area rose up at once, scurrying over to the bubbling cauldron, jostling each other in a scramble to be the first in line. Prowlus hastily restored order, stepping between Meadow and the crowd of approaching villagers.

"One at a time, please!" He made a motion with his hands as if he were clapping slowly. "Now, everybody get in a single file line. You'll all get some of Meadow's famous rabbit stew, don't you worry."

The Avalarians did what their chief asked of them, moving into a line, although it was not quite single file. Prowlus stepped aside, satisfied.

"Go on ahead, Meadow." He walked off to the back of the line. Meadow breathed a sigh of relief, and started ladling the stew into the bowls of the eager cheetahs in front of him, happy that he was not being mobbed by the hungry crowd.

It took him only five minutes to serve everybody in the village, including Prowlus. He took a bowl for himself, stealing an extra half ladle of the delicious stew before seating himself next to the chief. He turned to Prowlus, who was shoveling spoonfuls of the stew into his mouth. He grinned.

"Is it good?" he asked, knowing what the answer was going to be.

"Amazing." He shook his head with admiration. "You've always had a knack for cooking, haven't you?"

Meadow shrugged. "I suppose so. Although it was Hunter who set the traps that caught the rabbits in the first place." He frowned, looking away from the village, off into the valley. "Speaking of him, I haven't seen the rogue anywhere since this morning. Do you know where he is?"

Prowlus nodded, wiping away a drop of broth from his chin. "He decided to go on a little trip of sorts. Said he wanted to be alone for awhile." He took another spoonful of broth and slurped it up.

"Well... it's a shame he had to miss tonight's meal." He stopped and thought for a moment before continuing, "Although, it is strange that he decided to leave so unexpectedly. I hope he's alright."

"I'm sure Hunter's fine. He's disappeared for much longer, you know." He said, remembering the time when Hunter had been recruited by the guardians to find Spyro and Cynder. "A day or two in the woods is nothing compared to surviving three years by himself. He'll be fine." He glanced at Meadow's still full bowl of rabbit stew. Changing the subject, he pointed to it, asking, "Well, are you gonna eat that or not? Cause I can finish it if you don't want it." He smiled.

Meadow found himself smiling back at the chief, deciding that it would be best to stop talking and start eating. He was glad to finally taste his own creation, enjoying the hearty flavor of the vegetables and tender rabbit mixed together.

Prowlus was right, he thought. Hunter was perfectly fine.

…

Unfortunately, Hunter could not have felt more at risk.

He padded through the forest, using the sound of the trickling river as a guide in the near complete darkness. He was lucky to have such sharp eyesight, or else he would be walking blind. Despite his many years of experience in survival, he was still very nervous, not knowing if the archer was watching him or not. He quickly dismissed this possibility however, knowing that if he couldn't see much of anything, than neither could his enemy.

He listened to the sounds of the night, hearing nothing else but the symphony of crickets, the trickling of the river, and the croaking of frogs by the riverbank. With each step he took, he gradually pressed the pads of his footpaws into the dirt, but not before feeling for dry twigs and leaves that could give him away. He tried not to make any noise as he walked, but every so often he heard the distinctive crack of a stick underpaw. And each time he braced himself, waiting for an arrow to come whistling through the trees at him.

Hunter kept this terribly slow pace for hours until his leg muscles cried out in pain, strained from the constant stress of his crouching position. Eventually, he could no longer ignore the pain and stood up for only a few seconds, shaking the circulation back into his legs before ducking back down.

As he crawled behind a small bed of what felt like ferns, his stomach rumbled. He clutched it, suddenly realizing that he hadn't eaten all day. Almost right away after learning this fact, he missed being back at the village. They would be sitting around a warm fire now, talking amongst themselves as they ate dinner. The more Hunter thought about it dinner, the hungrier he felt. He also recalled Meadow saying that he was making some of his famous stew out of the rabbits Hunter had caught in the traps he had set up around the village. He could envision the boiling cauldron of stew hanging over an open fire, the lovely aroma as it dropped into his bowl. He could taste the savory broth, the onions, the carrots, and the tender meat of the rabbit blended with an assortment of spices…

Wuuuuuurrrrrrp!

Hunter grabbed his stomach, feeling the intense hunger pangs as they vibrated his entire abdomen. Brushing a fly off of his face, he wisely decided to banish food from his train of thought and focus on what he was doing at the moment.

Another grueling hour passed by until Hunter saw a tiny glowing light through the forest. Making sure he wasn't imagining things, he stared at it for a few seconds. He was pleased to know he wasn't going insane, and that the light was indeed real.

Hunter crept off toward the light, being more careful than ever not to be spotted or heard.

…

Many hours beforehand, the archer had arrived upon a little wooden cabin, his own bow and arrows as well as Hunter's in his arms. He entered through the front door and dropped the bow and arrows onto the creaky wooden floorboards, causing a little cloud of dust to poof up around the objects. As he did this He looked out the window, noticing that the sun had almost set. He had arrived at his little home just in time. It was nearly impossible to see anything in this forest with the tiny sliver of moon in the sky.

He moved around a small dinner table placed in the middle of the room and plopped down onto a little wooden chair beside a fireplace, tired from the long day. He thought of all the things he had accomplished throughout the day as he relaxed. Firstly, the young cheetah had managed to pick enough blackberries, a rare treat, from up the mountain to fill up a small, metal pail he had found in the cabinets. He had also managed to bag a quail he had shot, which meant another meal for the next day. And, to put icing on the cake, he had managed to acquire what looked to be a very well crafted longbow from the trespasser, which appeared to be far superior to his own.

Wanting to inspect it more closely, he got up from his chair and moved over to the longbow, picking it up and hefting it, feeling its weight. He held it out straight with his left arm and pulled back on the string with his right, grunting with exertion as he bent the bow. He held it for a second before relaxing the bowstring. It was much harder to pull back then his bow, but that also meant that it had far more power. With practice, he could master this bow and use it for hunting. Not only this, but he had also managed to nab some arrows from the traveler. When he drew a shaft out of the quiver, he noticed that the flights were made of a different type of feather, much larger and better fastened to the wood of the arrow. The shaft itself was perfectly straight, and the tip was iron, not flint.

Then, after examining his prizes, he looked down at his own bow and arrows, which he had dropped down beside the chair. The more he looked at the so called "traveler's" weapons, the less fond he grew of his own. He fiddled with the bowstring of the new longbow, and then plucked one of Hunter's arrows out of the quiver, fixing it to the string. He tested its pull, placing it horizontally over his lap.

One thing was for certain; the lying stranger sure did have a good bow. In fact, he was now very glad he had been tracked by the cloaked cheetah. Otherwise, he would be stuck with his old antique of a bow.

Speaking of the traveler, he thought. He would have to watch his back for the next few days. He might want his bow back.

This thought caused him to look out the window, as if expecting to see the stranger emerge from the woods. As soon as he did this, he laughed at himself for his foolishness. Nobody would be stupid enough to try to navigate this forest at night.

It soon became very dark inside the dusty little cabin, so the archer decided to light a candle for a bit of light. Soon afterward, he grew very sleepy, his eyelids drooping, his head rolling back onto the top of the chair. He tried to stay awake, but failed, letting his eyelids slide shut, forgetting to extinguish the candle, which flickered in full view of the small window.

…

Hunter nearly ran straight into the wall of the cottage.

It took him the greater half of a minute to realize the light he had seen was a candle through the window of this little house, which meant…

The archer was here.

Hunter licked his lips nervously. This was what he had been waiting for.

He felt the wooden walls of the cabin with his left paw while keeping the knife in his right, careful not to tap the wood too hard to alert his enemy. He chanced a very quick glance through the window before ducking down, but saw nobody inside the house. Perhaps the archer wasn't here…

No, that was impossible. It would be foolishness to leave a candle lit inside a wooden house without having someone around to watch it. Besides, someone had to be around to light the candle.

He felt the end of the wall house his paw coming to rest on the corner of the house. He began to walk alongside this new wall, and noticing the little crescent moon high in the sky, surrounded by an array of stars. There was also a clearing in the forest of trees off to the side of the house, which appeared to be a place for farming. Rows of plants filled a square area near the middle of the clearing. Hunter searched the garden with his eyes, but didn't find anybody. He snuck around to front of the house, gripping the knife tightly. He pressed up against the wall next to the door, listening. He heard no movement from the other side of the door. He placed his paw onto the little brass knob, turning it slowly until he heard a click.

He opened the door a crack, peering inside, keeping his breathing and heartbeat under control.

He opened it further, further, further…

There the young cheetah was, sitting on a chair, asleep with Hunter's bow in hand, and an arrow notched to the string.

Hunter's blood ran cold. For a moment, he thought the archer was awake, but the sound of his gentle snoring told him otherwise. He could not afford to sigh with relief as he stepped into the cabin, hoping dearly that he would not awake his enemy.

He made two steps around the table, making himself ready just in case he awoke that he would have his knife ready. He looked at the paw that grasped the middle of his bow. It was very tight. Hunter would have cursed if he wasn't trying to be so quiet.

His paw was centimeters away from the longbow. He reached out…

Wuuuuuuuurrrrrp!

His stomach growled, even louder than before. He froze, his knife hand twitching.

The archer stirred, and his eyes flickered open.

…

Author's Note: I think it's time to accept that I'm going to update this story slowly every time. Business is not kind to writers. DX

Oh noes! A cliffhanger! Guess you'll have to wait until then next chapter to find out what happens next! And don't worry, if this story hasn't really seemed to pick up yet, just you wait. Hopefully, you won't have to wait much longer.

And please, if you see an error or something, tell me in a PM or a review. I'm still trying to improve my writing, ya know!