Demon Prince. Ultyr lowered his dark nose to the soft ground. The particularly dry and unrelentingly hot summer had reached even the typically damp recesses of this forest. Now that fall had arrived the leaves had released their stems from the branches and fell languidly and gently to the mossy earth. Though this forest was typically wet, the summer must have burned away some of the forest's reserves. The leaves crunched and whisked and whispered under every step.
Dark paws tested the sound of the leaves as he led the silver rose youth hunting. He wanted to see how they could work together. What was this boy's stance, readiness, training? Had he hunted more than rabbits on his own?
Demon Prince. He understood how the people of Judila and the other conquered kingdoms could come by that title for him. No one thought a conqueror of their homes was good and blessed. He was demonic in their eyes simply by proxy he knew. But the title held a simplicity to it. He was a God prince, but what is a God if not a demon? What is a demon if not a god in its own right?
He had scented a herd of elk that had entered the woods. They had come down from the mountains for the fall and enter the lower lands for better grazing. Their summer haunts would soon be lost in the deep winter snows of the higher elevations.
There! He picked up his head from the ground as a high ringing call was heard overhead. A bull elk calling for its herd. Though the sounds reverberated and bounced through the trees and vines, he knew it came from the north edge. He glanced at Gany and nodded his head in that direction before slinking through the prey trail toward the sound.
A rustle of leaves up ahead made the God-prince stop and shift his head around the trunks. Hoping to catch a glimpse of their prey.
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