Interlude: The Hunt

The shifting of the grass was as swift and abrupt with the clap-clop of stag to rush through as the two hunters chased in pursuit.

A hunt was afoot in earnest.

The Breton/Bosmer hybrid Robb Hode was scuttling ahead as Daemon followed behind. Bow carrying their longbows in hand.

Robb drew a bow from his belt satchel, pulled back on the string, and released. The projectile's point lodging itself into the stag's body. Falling short of felling their quarry, however proving to be a good step in contributing to their shared cause.

Daemon's companion may have been kin to the wood elves but one would not have registered it upon a first glance. Beyond the eyes which betrayed his true parentage, Daemon recognized more of Cerys' people in Robb's countenance. He dressed less nordically or even in those to reside within or near the city. His hood and garments seemed as though they had been sewn together from pieces of clothing. Armed with little more than a black bow bearing a unique emblem (which was crafted in such a way that it resembled a noble house sigil) near the handle. The belt mounted satchel, and a seax for a foe to close distance and his arrowheads failed him.

An adequate marksman but beyond this attribute he was not nearly as valued by those to know him within Balgruuf's hold. Appraised as possessing worth by only his beloved Lim.

He was certainly and vastly more skilled with the bow than Daemon who's attempts to shoot with his bow resulted in disappointment which provided Actorious an inkling as to how Lord Kaeso must regard him.

The sound of a cascade was distantly invading the Imperial and half-breed's ears. Though Daemon imagined—in a jovial manner—that with his pointyish ears that the waterwall was painful for Robb to hear. As he often imagined it would for a rabbit.

This erred in hampering his ability with a bow. Robb pulled back on it all the same with an arrow's honed and sharpened point which Adrianne had prepared for them with some septims from Cyrodiilite.

Once the arrow was flighted, it was confirmed to have been a worthy purchase. As the form of the stag collapsed to the soil, half dead and half alive.

Seeing the success of aim, Robb hastily rushed forward whilst drawing his hunting knife.

With a plunge into the beast's body, piercing its heart, blood leaked out as their prey gradually had life sapped second by second before at last dying.

All as Daemin watched with a degree of admiration. Robb may not be that well favored by some of the nordlings, but he was without a doubt one of the more skilled archers he had seen. Not even Faendal—back in Riverwood—was a quarter as effective with his marksmanship in comparison.

An efficiency which Daemon wished he could claim in regard to his shout ability—though that was tragically not the reality for the moment.

"It's done." Robb said, wiping a cloth over the small blade. "Let's get this back to my home, shall we? I'm hungry."

"Couldn't agree more." Daemon replied as he seized hold to the back end of the fresh kill.

Robb did the same with the back end and both hoisted the stag up.

This was a good use of the Cyrodiilite's time, as far as the aforementioned Imperial was concerned.

He was yet to channel the power of the Voice still, and was refusing to travel to High Hrothgar, so he was settling for these mundane moments outside of the work to find its way to Daemon.

It was enough to provide the thane of Whiterun with moments of relaxing levity. The plying of his trade being the only reprieve from the mundanity of his time in Whiterun when he was failing to bring about the thunderous shout from his throat.

A source of mortifying frustration.

But at least he had a decent meal to not be as costly as the case was behind the city walls.

That's a good trade, right?

The next stop was the hut Robb and Lim called their home, and then a feast.