It seemed as if even the air itself, bright and loud and blinding, had lost all of its beauty in the eyes of the huntress who lay in wait. Her eyes remained focused on the lone hexapede that gambled along the jungle path below her, enjoying the beauty of its surroundings; how could it have known it would also be where it would heave its last breath?
The arrow in her precious bow drew back yet not even the slightest rasp escaped the weapon. It was as if the weapon was merely an extension of the huntress's body. Her unblinking eyes narrowed. Her body tensed. The only part of her body that moved was the tip of her tail by a fraction or two, the only bad habit in her hunting form that even she couldn't break despite the thousands of hunts she had trained on
Flick.
Flick.
Flick.
Shoot.
With a whizz, the arrow was through the eyes of the hexapede and it dropped to the floor whilst its soul shortly followed, however instead of dropping it rose to rejoin the great mother. Suddenly it was if all the noise and colour of the forest had returned in full force, smacking into Peyral's senses like a herd of stermbeest. Hopping in one practiced motion from the tree she had perched on, Peyral rested one hand on the body of her prey and knelt her head in thanks, before standing up with it clutched in her hands and letting out a sharp chirp. Within moments Peyral turned to greet the sound of hooves that thundered behind her, and her stoic expression finally broke into a wide smile at the sight of her direhorse the entered her view. A large basket perched rather precariously on the back of it, straining under the weight of the generous amount of prey Peyral had hunted beforehand. A flutter of pride filled her chest as she added her latest to the pile; this shall be enough to satisfy the hunger of her clan. With another elegant swing of her hips Peyral was on the back of her beloved direhorse and on the way back to the home tree, wallowing in the blues, greens and purples of the forest that couldn't take in during the concentration of her hunt.
Upon arrival Peyral was greeted by the small group of men, the hunters of the clan. But, to be honest, greeting wasn't the right word to describe it. Appraisal would be more fitting. Peyral knew she was one of, if not the best hunter in the clan, and of course this came with positives such as respect, admiration and of course the honour to wear more beading and bodily decoration that Peyral couldn't deny was a soft spot for her; the many beads and jewels woven securely into her braids to hold it out of her face during hunting was not just a practical factor for her; it made her feel beautiful. Alongside this, the beaded chest piece and arm bands she wore spoke of her fondness for jewellery. However it was hard to not fiddle with these beads when approaching the judging eyes of the men who awaited her. This was the downside of her small fame in her clan. It put a type of target on her back. The men in her clan were prideful beings and each of them wanted the honor of being the one to provide the most for their clan. It was not only a nice little ego boost but also made attracting a mate much easier. However with Peyral swiftly proving her natural talent at hunting as soon as a bow was placed in her hand, outshining a majority of the men through time and training, it obviously nettled them, resulting in said men constantly monitoring her hunting prowess and the prizes she would return with. To learn from her (not that they would ever admit that) or the able to pounce on her the moment she started to decline in her skill, Peyral couldn't decide. She would rather die then let them know their keen eyes did frustrate and unsettle her. It wasn't nice to know eyes were on her every move. Narrowing her eyes and raising her chin, Peyral marched her direhorse pass them to dispose of her prey to her people who would be the ones to cook for the clan tonight, and allowed the glow of pride to fill her chest once again as they thanked her for her contribution.
Peyral had to admit though; the jealous expression on some of the mens faces as they laid eyes on the amount of her kill a very nice little ego boost too.
As she moved through her people to the pools to wash and bathe, Peyral allowed one of the rare smiles on her face to grow even wider as she laid eyes of the faces of her two dearest friends: Neytiri and Swylanin. "Friends" Peyral laughed, and embraced them. The three young women were soon engrossed in cheery chatter as they all carried on moving towards the pool. However, their chatter faltered as a figure slipped out of the branches beside them and bowed its head in greeting. Instantly, Peyral felt fire explode in her stomuch and across her cheeks as she immediately recognized who had joined them: Tsu'tey. Tsu'tey greeted them respectfully, however his eyes remained on Swylanin; Peyral felt as if the fire inside her had been hastily dosed in a bucket of ice cold water. Tsu'tey opened his mouth to speak, and Peyral forced her mouth despite how shockingly numb it had become since Tsu'tey's arrival to move, coldly announcing her need to cleanse herself from her hunt and allowed her feet calmly strut away, and to not race away with her despite the ferocious feeling that knawed at her entire body to run away as fast as she possibly could, away from a sight she really did not want to see.
Tsu'tey and Swylanin.
However, after a minute and foolishly thinking she had escaped, Peyral felt a cool hand on her back and instantly knew who it was. Heaving a empty sigh, Peyral turned and was captured with Neytiri's annoyingly omniscient gaze. "You can't keep running from this" Was all Neytiri said, her voice a mix of firmness and pity. Raising her chin once again, Peyral hissed "I am a hunter. I do not run". A moment passed, heavy, and Peyral sighed. "I apologise. This is an unpleasant situation". Neytiri nodded. "It is unpleasant for us all, do not think it isn't" Neytiri reminded her. This was the heavy truth. Peyral, Neytri and Swylanin had been close their entire lives however when Tsu'tey became the proficent warrior he is and was deemed the one deserving of Swylanin, their friendship had become tense. Training alongside Tsu'tey throughout her younger years, Peyral couldn't help but feel attraction to that man; they were never close as they were both dedicated to their duty, but Peyral and Tsu'tey formed a pleasant and easy friendship. As they had gotten older, Peyral did begin to feel attraction, and when these feelings remained, Peyral allowed herself the guilty joy of a possible future with him as her mate. Before Peyral could do anything however, the engagement between Swylanin and Tsu'tey was announced, and so forth began the inner torment of Peyral. Reeling with shock which was soon swiftly followed by anger, sadness and of course guilt, Peyral actively began to avoid Tsu'tey, and try as she might she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable around Swylanin. After all, Peyral couldn't rid herself of the feelings of desire that arose in her whenever she laid eyes on her close friends future mate. The feelings of shame when this happened made her feel sick.
She had never dared to admit any of this to Neytiri and Swylanin, but they knew. For Eywa's sake, she knew that they knew. They knew her too well. But the shame that Peyral felt clogged her throat and clawed down the words whenver she fought to get them out to confess and open up to her friends. She couldn't do it. Not openly anyway.
Peyral risked a glance up, back to Tsu'tey, and felt a stab in her heart at the sight of him talking to Swylanin. Without another word, she stiffly turned and paced away.
The skilled huntress was finally too distracted to feel the burning eyes of Tsu'tey on her back, before he caught himself and quickly looked away.