Out in a forest somewhere, at a time, there was a hunter that had her arrow notched in her bow. She stalked through the forest, looking for her prey. A cart was traveling through the dirt path. A cloaked figure was manning the cart. Glimpsing through the few visible parts of their skin, it had a rather greenish hue to it. The figure’s size looked beyond that of a human, perhaps, it was an orc.
The forest was still. The hunter listened through her pointed ears, a brown tint to her watchful eyes. The crisp crinkle of the leaves were one of the few sounds in this hauntingly quiet domain. She could feel her heartbeat resonate with a force, a force she knew to be the forest. She felt the small streams rush through the rivers as if it were the blood coursing through her veins. The wind softly blew. She could hear the songs of the birds that perched on the trees, the lizards that sneaked about on the forest floor, and the small mammals that skittered about. All of it and more.
With bated breath, she sneaked through the trees. She breathed in and out
In and out
She drew her bow. She felt the wind tickle the skin of her cheeks.
It fired, piercing through the air. Her eyes glowed a big and bright green as if to signal a connection.
The arrow pierced the cart’s wheel as if imbued with a magical glow. It may be magical for it was enough to damage the wooden wheel sending the cart in a fury. The driver tried to maintain his trek to no avail. The cart soon crashed into a tree, the driver caught in the wreckage.
She looked around first, to see if there were any signs of possible intrusions. When there was none, she went to the cart. It seemed like she glided through the forest with her movements. The confidence that emanated from her was the kind that would only be achieved through familiarity, the familiarity of her trade. She examined the driver first, rustling through their stuff. She examined the cloth that covered the object in the cart. She grasped it and tugged. Underneath the ratty cloth was a beast, a large mongrel trapped in a cage. It growled at her but she hummed to it a tune, a sweet comforting tune. The canine settled down, entranced by the green in her eyes. It spoke to her in her mind.
“You are Laelaps Terallion. She who never misses her mark. Wife of the champion of the Wild.”
“That I am.” She replied, outstretching her hand through the cage. The canine hesitated, but closed its eyes and nuzzled its furry cheek on her hand. “My reputation precedes me. I hope I didn't spend those years hunting to be known as wife to my husband.”
“How could I not?” It chuckled. “Even the winds sing your name.”
She ignored that, freeing the beast. It happily hopped off and followed her as she trekked to the driver, her bow drawn. The driver moaned in pain and hazily looked at his attacker.
“Who do you work for? People know better than to smuggle beasts in the Goddess’ domain.” She proclaimed, her face hard and eyes calculating. The driver whimpered.
“I do not know. They only offered me a sizable sum of gold.” His voice spoke with clear traces of weakness. She pressed her lips together unconvinced.
“Know better than to lie to me,” She repeated.
“I swear! I don’t know their names! They wore red cloaks and hid their faces!” Her eyes widened.
“They’re back.” She whispered under her breath. The canine looked at her.
“Who?” It asked.
“The harbingers of the disaster from decades ago.”