11-03-2011, 01:08 PM
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((Backdated to October 10th.))
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Her ancestors may have hunted in the dark, but Alma found herself hunting in the daylight. A bow required that - she had to be able to see what she was shooting at, or waste her arrows shooting at shadows - and she couldn't carry very many arrows with her.
Her arrows were tied together with a bit of string, and that was attached to the flax cloth bag around her waist. This made getting an arrow and drawing her bow a more cumbersome process, but it was necessary until Ezekiel had finished her quiver. Even were it done now, she still had to build two more bows in return - and to do that she sinew for the string, and hooves and skin for glue. And, of course, she needed to hunt to get those things - though it was true she had four hooves for the glue, she still needed sinew.
It suddenly occurred to the coywolf, while deep in the Dampwoods and surrounded by trees, that she could have just traded for that and all this fumbling with arrows wouldn't have been necessary. A frown appeared on her snout, and did not quite disappear even when she considered what she would have to trade for. She could also have asked another clan member for help, but that idea was immediately discarded. Alma had spent so much time alone that she was not used to getting something for nothing and her pride would not let her accept help even if it had been offered.
Her ears flicked backwards as a squirrel scampered up a tree behind her. The scent of small prey; songbirds, squirrels and rabbits, filled her nose. She could just faintly detect the scent of deer, which was her intended target. Alma was on a seldom-used trail, a place where grass and undergrowth had been crushed beneath both hooves of deer, paws of canines and lesser prey. The grass was already starting to grow back, and bits of moss were peaking out from the ground. All signs that what she wanted was not to be found here. Following the faint scent, the coywolf moved on.
It was almost noon before she found more encouraging signs. A tree missing its bark where a male deer had rubbed its antlers, and several flattened sections of underbrush where a herd was likely to have slept. The scent was fresh and stronger than ever, but she could not see even one of them. Nervously, she brushed her paw up against her head to make sure the dirt and leaves she had used to hide her bright orange hair was still there. In addition to that, she had rolled in dirt and other, less pleasant things to cover her own scent. ((OOC: yes, she smells bad :p ))
Alma strung her bow and took an arrow from her side. She hadn't seen her prey yet, but she was certain that they could not be far.
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Her ancestors may have hunted in the dark, but Alma found herself hunting in the daylight. A bow required that - she had to be able to see what she was shooting at, or waste her arrows shooting at shadows - and she couldn't carry very many arrows with her.
Her arrows were tied together with a bit of string, and that was attached to the flax cloth bag around her waist. This made getting an arrow and drawing her bow a more cumbersome process, but it was necessary until Ezekiel had finished her quiver. Even were it done now, she still had to build two more bows in return - and to do that she sinew for the string, and hooves and skin for glue. And, of course, she needed to hunt to get those things - though it was true she had four hooves for the glue, she still needed sinew.
It suddenly occurred to the coywolf, while deep in the Dampwoods and surrounded by trees, that she could have just traded for that and all this fumbling with arrows wouldn't have been necessary. A frown appeared on her snout, and did not quite disappear even when she considered what she would have to trade for. She could also have asked another clan member for help, but that idea was immediately discarded. Alma had spent so much time alone that she was not used to getting something for nothing and her pride would not let her accept help even if it had been offered.
Her ears flicked backwards as a squirrel scampered up a tree behind her. The scent of small prey; songbirds, squirrels and rabbits, filled her nose. She could just faintly detect the scent of deer, which was her intended target. Alma was on a seldom-used trail, a place where grass and undergrowth had been crushed beneath both hooves of deer, paws of canines and lesser prey. The grass was already starting to grow back, and bits of moss were peaking out from the ground. All signs that what she wanted was not to be found here. Following the faint scent, the coywolf moved on.
It was almost noon before she found more encouraging signs. A tree missing its bark where a male deer had rubbed its antlers, and several flattened sections of underbrush where a herd was likely to have slept. The scent was fresh and stronger than ever, but she could not see even one of them. Nervously, she brushed her paw up against her head to make sure the dirt and leaves she had used to hide her bright orange hair was still there. In addition to that, she had rolled in dirt and other, less pleasant things to cover her own scent. ((OOC: yes, she smells bad :p ))
Alma strung her bow and took an arrow from her side. She hadn't seen her prey yet, but she was certain that they could not be far.