Post by Devon the Bard on Dec 29, 2008 18:03:04 GMT -5
Footsteps on ice were never so light. Despite his immense frame Devon had a rare talent for sneaking up on those who least suspected it. On a field in an open battle he was just as any other soldier, but here in the night under the cover of darkness with only Luna and her Court to light the way he was liberated. He could remember nights in the forest surrounding his home. He had relished the dark, stalking at night among all the other predators for springjacks and night fowl. Tonight in particular reminded him of a hunt he had taken in his fourteenth year. Luna had been full and silvery bright, her court did their best to shine as brightly but paled against her glory. He could feel his ears becoming pointed again, shifting his focus and expanding his senses. The clearing had been like any other, but in a small depression at the center fresh rainwater had collected. The sweet rains of his homeland attracted many springjacks, even though their instincts warned them against it they could ill resist something so refreshing as a cool drink under the light of the moon. The arrow slid across his bow’s rest silently as the last falling leaf of autumn. Surely as he had breath in his lungs there was a large burly ‘jack just dipping his head to taste the water. His antlers were impressive, large, broad, and battle-scarred. He must have seen more fights and mates than the rest of the ‘jacks in the forest put together. Not far behind a doe stood with her fawn, watching serenely as the old stag took his fill. Devon cast his eyes back out over the frozen waste as he leaned against the parapet of the wall remembering the slow, agonizing stalk up to the treeline as he watched the springjack with fascination. He began to whisper a prayer, just as he had silently recited it almost a decade prior. Finally he was at the edge of the clearing just as the big ‘jack raised his magnificent head. For a single, sharp instant Devon believed he had been spotted. He froze and every muscle in his body became as marble, stilling even the breath that hovered at his lips. ‘Grandfather Forest,’ that was the name Devon gave him at that moment, his golden eyes swept the trees and he gave a short ‘wuff’ to his mate. He was a cautious old ‘jack, and he knew that even though his eyes couldn’t find the intruder they were not alone. With fire in his veins Devon realized it was this moment or none. He drew his bow to its full arch and took careful aim, the arrow canted toward the old beast and zeroed just an inch above where the tawny-gold topcoat gave way to the springjack’s snowy white underside. He drew in a breath and held it, then loosed the shaft, watching as the arrow streaked into the clearing. The doe and fawn bolted at the sound of the bowstring, but the stag hadn’t been as fast as they were. The arrow struck behind his right shoulder, true to the heart, and felled him cleanly. Devon waited a few heartbeats after he saw the springjack fall. Grandfather Forest lay still on the woodland floor. Finally Devon moved out into the clearing, he knelt next to the springjack and placed a hand on his head. “Thank you my friend, for your sacrifice. I will honor you in my memory, and keep your story for others,” he had said. Suddenly, Devon was back on the Wall, the chill winds rising to waken him from dreaming of that night. “I promised I would keep you in my memory, old friend, and I have. Pity, there is no one else here for me to tell of your magnificence. Yet again, who might believe such a tale?” Devon gathered his cloak about him and settled to walking his patrol again. This would be a long night, but time passed quickly with fond memories to fill it.