Motiv8

Thick vegetation and moss-covered forest floor, a common landscape for hunting. Aristaios prowls with purpose, his senses attuned to the subtlest of clues. A sound, a scent, a sight to behold. The eerie silence of his surroundings only heightened his focus as he moved, each step leaving barely a whisper against the damp earth. Big as he was, he was not enough of an oaf to go lumbering around scaring away all the prey while hunting. Though his particular quarry today would hardly be frightened off.

There was a fog that accompanied him in these woods, dancing around him like spectral tendrils, swirling and shifting in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the dense canopy above. He stalked seamlessly in the shadowed undergrowth, his charcoal fur blending with the muted hues of the forest. And with each passing moment, the scent of the bear he was hunting grew stronger, a musky aroma that lingered in the air like a warning. Which it was. Aristaios followed the trail with determination, his senses sharp and his instincts honed by years of survival in the wild.

It was not that an ambush was of much use when fighting a bear, but you could get a few good hits in before it reacted, wasn’t that better than facing it off head first? He closed in on his target, the tension in the air crackled like static electricity. With a final, silent step brimming with anticipation, Aristaios emerged from the dense underbrush, his eyes locked onto the massive form of the bear looming before a berry bush it was feasting upon.

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