They drew closer, slow and alert. Closing the distance, they stood less than a hundred paces when Ezril armed himself with his bow, choosing not to notch an arrow. An unconscious decision, it seemed. As they moved, the women strategically positioned at the center of the group, he wondered what was different. From what he knew, the women never followed the men to hunt. They were always at a different part of the forest, away from the men, gathering herbs.

That they were here today was questionable.

He knew the arrow would miss its target before it crossed the distance. The man who released it hissed his annoyance as it struck the tree just above the animal’s head, right between the horns. The beast took only a moment to turn its head and beat its retreat. And in a moment, everyone snapped to attention. The relaxed stalking of a predator they had proceeded with shifted to that of a near crazed pack.

Ormanu and Nidas took to their heels. Positioned at the head of the group, they were the closest to the beast. Nidas threw his spear, his aim true. However, the beast, twisting its body as it changed directions, evaded it.

“Akstak!” the big man barked to his cousin.

The next move gave Ezril a pause as Ormanu cut through the distance, the air whipping around him as he rose a dust of fallen leaves. In a heartbeat he had his arms wrapped around the neck of their quarry, the momentum of his speed helping him bring it to its knees.

He would wrestle it?! Ezril realized as the man struggled with the beast.

The beast bucked once, then twice, rising to its feet, hooves clumping. Ormanu might be Hallowed but Ezril found himself hoping the man did not think he would escape being trampled with his life.

Turning, he caught everyone darting forward in an attempt to render whatever form of assistance they could, and he wondered why the archers weren’t taking aim. Ormanu had the beast stationery and, while it bucked and fought, it was in no position to evade anything thrown at it.

They’d barely covered the distance when the animal threw Ormanu off its neck. The man barely escaped its horns as he lifted near ten feet into the air. He fell harder than Ezril expected somewhere over five feet from the beast. Sparing him no afterthought, it continued its retreat, increasing the distance between them with each step.

Ezril turned to the archers to find them taking aim now.

They’re taking too long!

Ezril frowned, and drew two arrows from his quiver. He’d had the time to inspect them when they were handed to him and one well-placed arrow was not going to put the beast down. He notched one, the other still in hand, and took aim.

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He drew back on the bow string and froze. Aim trailing after the beast, he stood transfixed. The beast ran ahead and he watched it at the tip of his arrow, lost.

“PRIEST!”

The cry shook Ezril from his trance and he released the bowstring. The arrow flew and he notched the second, sending it after its predecessor. Two arrows in the space of a heartbeat. They struck true. The first took the beast in the neck. The second buried itself between in the back of the head. He lowered his bow and watched Ormanu close in on the beast, over fifty strides covered in few steps. It wasn’t long before he went to work on the beast. Blade flashed as he dug it into it. Once. Twice. On the third, he drove it forcefully into its head as he pinned it down. A test of strength ensued, hunter against prey. Ormanu seemed on the edge of his hold when everything came to an abrupt end. The animal buckled twice more, the last of its death throes and Ormanu kept his head away, avoiding its horns.

Ormanu raised a hand from where he was, back rested on the beast. Ezril took it as a sign of success and turned to the Aldonar. However, the man wasn’t looking at Ormanu. He was looking at him. Surprised.

“I’d heard the stories from the scout,” Aldonar said in disbelief, “but boy, that was breath taking. The marksmanship. The precision. And from that distance, too. Where’d you learn to shoot like that—and don’t say from your people, because I’ve seen priests with bows and none ever as good as that.”

“Not entirely from them,” Ezril answered, “but they did have a hand in it. Plus, I happened to be a fast learner.” He stopped, his gaze briefly darting to one of the archers and back. “But I think the more important question here is why they didn’t take the shot when Ormanu had it held down.” He found himself angered by the thought of an archer who couldn’t see an opportunity when one presented itself. Is it pride? he wondered. He’d never taken himself for a man with pride. But the way of the bow was something to be proud of, wasn’t it? The art Felvan had instilled in him was worthy of pride… isn’t it?

Aldonar looked at him in a daze. He seemed unable to comprehend how he could ask the question. So when he answered, his tone was matter-of-fact.

“Because they could’ve hit Ormanu.” His eyes narrowed. “But,” he continued, “I think the most important question is: why didn’t you?”

“It’s your hunt. I was waiting for your men to.”

“Not that.” The man waved a dismissive hand. “I speak of the end. You took aim but didn’t take the shot until I commanded it of you.”

Commanded it of me?...Ezril almost scoffed. The man thought he’d acted on a command? All he’d heard was his title. All he’d needed was a distraction from his distraction. “I saw something I haven’t seen in many years,” he murmured, choosing not to correct the man. “Something I’ve long since forgotten.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Cyrinth’s words came to him from many winters past. He could still hear the chuckle in the old man’s voice.

If only he knew.

The men packed up the wildebeest as the women took to the plants with a refined frenzy. Each plant was of a variety Ezril had never seen before. From the pink to the purple, even those covered in shades of black and smelled something musky were uprooted. He wondered what made them so special that they had joined the men. But he didn’t need to be told that the men had served not just as a hunting party but as their protection.