The sun had risen and the door to the lone hut swung open with a large brown hound leading the way, nose in the air. Behind him plodded a larger grey hound, looking to the small terrier that ran between his legs. Following these was the Hunter, with a faded green cloak draped over his shoulders, hiding the quiver of arrows and the hilt of his sword.
"Come Wísian, we shall return soon! Gehaere! Bróga! Stay!", the Hunter spoke out as he wandered towards his horse, Cénesefa, and climbed up into the saddle. His heels dug into the horses flank to spur it forward with the brown hound, Wísian, leading the way with his keen nose to the ground at most of the time.
The Hunter, the Horse and the Hound traversed through the forest, ducking under branches and following paths seldom tread and it was not long in their travels until a deep grumble came from Wísian's throat as he sniffed the air ahead. The Hunter climbed from the saddle, hushing them both to stay as he crept forward through the undergrowth.
A stag raised it's head from it's chewing, leaves and twigs hanging from it's great antlers as it froze up completely, ears twitching. It then lowered his head, sensing no threat nearby. The Hunter smiled, and turned to creep back towards his companions, whispering.
"He's a large one, we shall need Gehaere.", he looked towards Wísian, whose wrinkled forehead gave him an ever unimpressed expression. "Yeá, yeá, and Bróga too!"
Swiftly the rider climbed back up into the saddle and with the hound following closely behind, they once again arrived back at the hut where a shrill whistle and a deep bark came from Wísian, alerting Gehaere and Bróga.
The stag raised it's head once more, ears twitching and eyes unblinking. A rustling came from the bushes just infront of it's nose. The bushes parted and the grey maw of Gehaere jumped out, strong jaws clamping around the foreleg, causing the stag to raise onto it's rear legs, turning and fleeing with antlers clearing the undergrowth ahead.
"Wísian! Gehare! Bróga! Chase! Ksst! Ksst!", the hissing sound of the Hunter who dismounted and was now chasing along the tracks was loud.
The hounds turned, and chased through the undergrowth, gaining quickly on the stag that now, due to the teeth of the wolf hound, was now struggling to flee. Though the Hart and the Hounds were outrunning the Hunter.
The small teeth of the terrier, Bróga, were nipping into the back of ankles. The large mouth of the wolfhound, Gehaere, was tearing flesh from the legs with each bite, and the constant deep barking of the lymer, Wísian, was keeping the Hunter informed as he followed through the broken undergrowth with bow in hand.
The stag, with blooded forelegs and back legs turned to face the three head on in his last moments. Though, the three hounds no longer attacked. Instead they barked, and howled, their voices flowing through the woods, floating straight to the ears of the Hunter.
He arrived not shortly after, out of breath and dropping his bow to the ground to reach to his belt, pulling out his fine sword that glimmered in the light that pierced the canopy above.
"You put up a good hunt, my friend. Though all must come to an end, and those antlers sell well. I shall meet you again in the next life.", the Hunter smiled grimly before he lunged forward, blade swinging. A perfect slice as to not ruin the pelt and meat further, and the stag crumpled to the floor.
The Hunter knelt down besides the carcass, his knife cutting large chunks that could easily fill a man up for a meal. He cut three, and he gave out three. One to Wísian, one to Gehare and one to Bróga.
"Eat my pack, you've done me well on this day. Take your prize."
