The midsummer sun rose hazy and cool above the horizon, shedding pale light on the wild growth of the boreal forest. A light northern breeze rustled through the hardy trees producing the only sound to be heard in the unnatural stillness of the morning. Dawn in the forest is normally a noisy time with birds
chirping to each other good morning and animals scurrying around searching for their breakfasts. But not today. Today, the silence was warning of a predator present. A predator previously unknown to the inhabitants of the wood.
In a small clearing of underbrush, one of the hearty gray northern boars ruffled through the detritus and moss of the forest floor looking for food. So intent on its search, the boar remained ignorant to the danger lurking in the stubby willow boughs nearby. The hidden predator smiled and licked his dry lips. It had been a long time - far too long – since he had managed to hunt anything to sustain himself on his mad rush to the north. The loud sounds of the boar's snuffling and grunting couldn't hide the sturdy, strong beat of its muscular heart, nor the sound of the blood pulsing healthily through its veins. Shifting his weight forward, the male prepared to pounce upon the unsuspecting animal. Taking care to move silently and not disturb the forest around where he stood, his lithe muscles coiled in preparation, taking a small step forward, another and finally one more. He was in the perfect position to catch the animal in one shot. His mouth watered at the promise of the hot blood waiting mere feet away.
Suddenly, the boar stopped rummaging, its head snapping to attention, peering around the silent forest. The predator cursed to himself, his weakening condition had caused his silent step to falter just enough to hint at his presence and he couldn't allow this meal to escape. It had been a full tenday since he last fed on anything and the weakness in his limbs was growing more apparent with each passing hour. He had a long way to go yet if he wanted to truly escape his so-called mistress. Throwing his normal caution to the wind, his muscles bunched in preparation to leap at the creature and take it down before it had a chance to flee. As his weight shifted forward, he felt a sharp tug against his ankle as a heavy, unseen rope snapped tight around the appendage and yanked him forcefully from his feet to dangle upside down in one of the nearby trees. His curses became colorful and loud as he watched the boar disappear into the forest's undergrowth.
Allowing himself his little temper tantrum, he thrashed about, bending at the waist and trying to swipe at the rope. Finally giving up as his efforts yielded no success he allowed himself just to dangle, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Once he felt his temper subside and his rational thought return, he began studying the trap that held him so secure in the tree boughs.
Concentrating first on studying the loop that held his ankle securely in place, he noted that what held him aloft was no ordinary rope. It was made out of vines; living vines. Expertly grown or corded in such a way that cutting through it would take a very, very long time - He could tell that not even the small, sharp blades hidden in the lining of his worn leather boots would be successful before the sun set. Cutting them would require a level of effort and energy he wasn't sure he had, or could afford, to expend. Following the natural look of the draping vines, he found its origin at the foot of the thick tree he was now dangling from. Closing his eyes once more and taking a bracing breath of the frigid northern air, he concentrated his meager magical ability toward the plant, vainly hoping that he would be able to somehow trigger it to let go or to weaken or better yet, die. As the tendril of his magic reached out, a far stronger thread lashed back angrily at him from the very vine that held him secure. His eyes snapped open, and his colorful cursing resumed. He recognized the magic in the plant and cursed himself for an unobservant fool. He was caught in a Druid's snare. The excuse that he had no idea that this forest was claimed by one of the wild priests wasn't good enough, nor that he had barely any practical knowledge in dealing with the nature folk, not while running for his very life. It had been centuries since he last interacted with a druid, but he remembered their traps and the feel of their magics well. He knew that if a druid set out to trap something, it didn't escape. The entire land worked with them to aid in their endeavors. And based on the magic
simmering in the plant holding his ankle, this was no apprentice druid. He had no hope of escaping before the owner of the snare came to command the bind to loosen. Relaxing himself as much as possible, he prepared himself to wait for the druid to appear. Hopefully, this druid was one to ask questions before killing…