I'm still getting use to Itzal's personality adjustment. Sorry for fail post. Wc: 570
The usual smirk was spread across Itzal's face as he remembered bringing the deer down. It was a young buck, but pretty big in size. He had been hunting, really for the first time in months. He remember catching the buck's scent and moving through the shadows on two legs, his fingers flexing, looking forward to trying out his new throwing knives that he had trained with. As he come to a small forested area in the pack lands, he noticed the buck was stopping for a drink at the river. He grinned, reaching down and grabbing a knife slowly. He could still remember how the knife felt in his hands. It felt like a deadly weapon, which is exactly what it had been for the deer. He was only a couple of feet from the deer, but the wind was blowing towards him, and he was thickly hidden in the shadows. He pulled the knife up, wondering where the hit the buck. He couldn't go for the heart, his knife would get past the shoulder bone. So he aimed for the neck. He watched as the buck brought its head up from the river and looked around, feeling it was being watched. As the head was turning towards him he threw.
Itzal moved through the commons as he thought about how that initial knife only wounded the deer, and he had to follow up with a throw from his dagger, to bring the deer to its knees, before dashing out, and slitting its throat. After that it was just a job of some messy butchering. Then dragging the deer to a secluded spot so he could go back and get it later, and maybe some other things like its hide and bones. But for now, he only had a few slabs of meet. He was going to head to his den and eat them raw, but he realized he had gotten a little bit to much and decided to go and put them in the pack's cold storage. He realized he would have to through the kitchen and wrinkled his nose some. It always smelled weird in there. Someone had told him once it was from the spices and seasonings that people sometimes used on their meat. He only ever tasted cooked meat once before, and he didn't like to think about that time. As he had been babbling internally he had turned to head towards the storage. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going and bumped right into a female coydog.
Itzal snapped out of his babbling and stepped back, looking surprised. "I'm sorry madam, I didn't see you. I don't usual walk and think at the same time. But I'm trying to work on it." He said jokingly, trying to excuse his mistake. He smiled at the female. "My name is Itzal. It seems only right to introduce myself after bumping into you so rudely. And what is your name?" The female was thin, and her eyes were a nice silver color, and her hair was a strange kind of white. Itzal had never seen anyone that looked like her. Itzal smiled at her, but it was more of his usual smirk then a friendly smile. Itzal wasn't friendly, he was just careless and dangerous now. He was ten times more dangerous now then when he first came to Nova Scotia. And he loved it.
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