12-06-2007, 06:58 PM
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indent It had been nearly a month since Ahren had taken the crossbow from the city. He had managed to take down one deer successfully—though the kill had not been clean, and he had to chase it down and slit its throat. Ahren was a systematic killer when he hunted, choosing often to use tools rather then his own teeth for the larger animals. Hides were his goal, hides that were used to line the rickety shack he called home. Tanning during the winter was a tedious process, so he didn’t manage to do this often.
indent Being a creature of opportunity through, Ahren scavenged from the city often. The museum, he had found, offered a vast inventory of stuffed animals. Earlier in the week, he had ripped up a grizzly bear. A fair amount of cleaning had meant a fair amount of time to air out, but he had gone to gather his prize today. This was what he was carrying in his arms, and why he smelled like a bear. Of course, Ahren’s scent was non-specific to one object—he smelled like bear, smoke, metal. His crossbow was not on his person, but the knife, the ever constant knife, remained.
indent It was sheer luck and timing that allowed Ahren to watch his son fall into the water. As the boy settled onto the damp shore, Ahren approached, dropping the heavy hide over his son’s head and regarding him curiously. “You trying to freeze to death?”
indent It had been nearly a month since Ahren had taken the crossbow from the city. He had managed to take down one deer successfully—though the kill had not been clean, and he had to chase it down and slit its throat. Ahren was a systematic killer when he hunted, choosing often to use tools rather then his own teeth for the larger animals. Hides were his goal, hides that were used to line the rickety shack he called home. Tanning during the winter was a tedious process, so he didn’t manage to do this often.
indent Being a creature of opportunity through, Ahren scavenged from the city often. The museum, he had found, offered a vast inventory of stuffed animals. Earlier in the week, he had ripped up a grizzly bear. A fair amount of cleaning had meant a fair amount of time to air out, but he had gone to gather his prize today. This was what he was carrying in his arms, and why he smelled like a bear. Of course, Ahren’s scent was non-specific to one object—he smelled like bear, smoke, metal. His crossbow was not on his person, but the knife, the ever constant knife, remained.
indent It was sheer luck and timing that allowed Ahren to watch his son fall into the water. As the boy settled onto the damp shore, Ahren approached, dropping the heavy hide over his son’s head and regarding him curiously. “You trying to freeze to death?”