Winter Tracking [Solo Seasonal]

He’d headed north for a hunt, pulling along a sledge with supplies for a camp, and any traps he might set. The transport would be useful if he got lucky up here and took down something substantial. Finally, he found a place that would be a good camping site and set it up, setting and lighting a fire and lounging beside it with the yurt at his back as a wind break while he considered what prey might live up here. Caribou, musk oxen, northlands moose, maybe…

His tail flicked with a cascade of flaming light over his hind paws as he watched the flames dance and listened to the sounds of the pines beyond the crackle of the fire. At the very least, he could bag a few snowshoe hares for furs to trade or craft with.

He’d left Cairo in charge of patrols and training for the week he felt it would take to successfully hunt something down for Valhalla’s larders. His tongue ticked against his teeth as he yawned, then he stoked the fire and settled into the yurt, letting sleep rest upon him. Come morning he’d see what he could track down.

Morning rose with a bright sun and fresh layer of snow on the ground. Ardyn stretched his way out of the yurt with several yawns before he donned his cloak and armor and took pawfuls of ash from the dead fireplace and rubbed it into his fur all around his face, tail hair and anywhere that would show from under the cloak.

The soot would smother his light for a time. Unfortunately, he’d stand out like a sore toe in the bright white of the snow, but hopefully the trees would help give him cover to get close to whatever he found to hunt.

He stretched a last time with a final long, tongue-curling yawn, bucked into his armor and padded away from his camp, starting in a widening circle as his eyes scanned the snow before his paws, ears swiveling and listening for noises that didn’t mesh with the morning sounds of a wintry northern forest.

He moved stealthily, patiently, examining and dismissing marks on the snow; hares he made note of, and bird tracks he ignored, though he did keep in mind the tendency of birds to alert everyone in the local area of a hunter.

It seemed the birds were off duty, because he heard no alarm chirps or squawks as he slipped through the pines, pausing as he came upon a wider area than the others, and his eyes found a good track. A young elk, by the smell, maybe a yearling. No illness, but the track was uneven. Maybe the youngster had injured itself some way.

He nodded and followed the trail carefully, running through all that could go wrong, and everything that could go right in this hunt. The snow, especially here, was decently deep, and though he was currently able to walk across the top crust, once he really started running, he would sink in just as much as the elk might.

He pondered, then paused just behind a cluster of pines as crunching snow ahead reached his ears. Slowly, he crept forward, keeping close to the base of the pine cluster and peering through the frozen shrubbery.

A young elk, his quarry for the day, was pawing through the snow, digging for browse under the snow. He was a yearling, for sure, a bull elk that would have his first set of antlers spiking in next autumn. Or wouldn’t, if Ardyn was successful in his hunt.

The young bull held one hind leg up, awkwardly refusing to put full weight on it. Ardyn couldn’t see where the injury was, but he could smell blood, and there had been none in the tracks, so he guessed it was a sprain, or a days-to-weeks old hoof injury that wasn’t visible through the snow.

The youngster could pull through, or he might not, but it was better than hunting a fully healthy, sound animal that would be a good contribution to the gene pool.

He made the decision and bounded from his cover, startling the animal into a run. Hampered by the injury, the young elk floundered through the knee-deep powder, and Ardyn huffed as he bounded in great leaps, hoping to reach the elk before it gained its bearings enough to leap in the same way.

He was only half successful, but in the end, the elk was hobbled by its leg. The leap it made had not real power behind it and Ardyn caught the animal in the next few breaths, lunging with a grunt in the last bound and landing on the elk’s back end, weighing it down into a sitting position and causing the elk to grunt in pain as the leg it favored twisted beneath it.

Ardyn floundered further up the animal’s back and heaved himself close enough to employ his sabers and claws.

He was quick, slashing into the elk’s jugular and pinning it while the animal bled and thrashed. Finally, after several minutes of rodeo, the elk was still with only a few spastic kicks remaining. Breathing heavily Ardyn sat up and caught his wind, eyes closing for a moment as Lyr circled above and dropped to land on a cluster of pines, keeping an eye out while the young King regained his energy.

Finally, Ardyn stretched and began to process the animal, emptying the stomach of its contents and setting the offal to one side as he gutted and cleaned the animal then bent to skinning it out.

It took a few hours, and he left many tidbits for natural scavengers before he dragged the parted out animal on its out skin over the snow back to camp, Lyr leading the way.

At camp, Ardyn collapsed and rested for a bit before packing the sledge and breaking camp. He’d be heading home much earlier than he’d thought, but he’d not be going home empty-pawed. Maybe he’d find hares along the way.

Slipping into the traces, he threw his back into it and turned toward home.

Word Count: 1024 words

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think