Cuwath crept forward, prowling through the low foliage like mountain lion stalking its prey, using the shadows and the night to their fullest. Melding in with the surroundings, he edged to the nearest tree, from which he had a clear view of the northerner who was examining the old campsite Cuwath´s men used just a couple of days ago.
Dunlander knew that this northerner could easily and would most likely find tracks his men left behind, but the way this northerner moved puzzled him. He was in a hurry, overlooking several clues as he walked over the camp. Whatever his reasons, Cuwath had no desire to allow him to linger around here, so he took the sturdy and well-cared for longbow and nocked an arrow.
How quaint... he will die by the bow his own kin made and used.
The thought disappeared as swiftly as it came, just like the arrow he fired. His shot was true and the northerner fell on his knees, but the man turned at the last second. In the end, arrow only went through his arm. Still, Cuwath was amused. This man instinctively felt the threat and moved, even if a little late.
He did not pursue the wounded man. It was not his mission, nor it was his way. The way of the Hunt was only for two hunters, not for sheep and lambs that are too focused on something else to pay attention to their surroundings.
Still, Cuwath faintly smiled from his hiding spot, taking out a couple of silvers stars from one of his pouches. Perhaps he would be adding several more to these two before this is all over? He just needed to deliver the precious prisoner to his lord, the thrice cursed brilliant maiden. She will be maiden no more once it is all done, for his lord desired a heir. She will be a bride, unwilling or willing.
Putting the stars back into the pouch, Cuwath rose from the shadows and continued northbound.
Once it is all done... I will hunt you all... the scarred man... the big nosed fellow... the bearded scholar... and Arodiel... Arodiel... Arodiel...
