NOAH
i've been waiting far too long
staring at the sun
staring at the sun
He looked first to Lyra, giving her question the weight it deserved. “Good,” he said, ”that’s the right place to start.” His gaze shifted toward the tree line over the mound. “We don’t prefer one over the other without reason. In rut, bucks are aggressive. They’re distracted by their hormones. That can make them easier but it also makes them dangerous.” His eyes flicked back to her, and he had to push down his own stag within his chest. “We take what the land gives. Today, if a buck presents himself safely, we’ll consider it. If not, we don’t force it.” As for traps, he shook his head once. “Not for luxere.” At least, not traditionally. Noah had used many forms of traps for luxere in the past, including using himself in shifted form to divide a herd and draw apart the ones they wanted to bring down.
Then he turned to Nova. Noah did not sigh, though something close to it pressed at the back of his throat. Instead, he was patient as the rain stitched the forest together in silver thread. Her enthusiasm almost pulled a smile from him, but he kept his expression steady. Fatherhood had toned the hunter’s patience even deeper and further, a deep well made over time. “If we make a lot of noise they’ll run. And when luxere run in rut, they panic.” He shifted his weight slightly, lowering his voice. “A panicked herd can trample you. Or draw predators.”
He leaned forward, brushing rainwater from a half-disturbed track. “First, we listen. Or scent. But not with your ears alone, if yo can.” His eyes lifted between them. “We do not chase.” He relayed. “We position. We let instinct tell us where they will step next.”
Round 1! With either a shift or partial shift, listen for or try to scent out the herd!
Then he turned to Nova. Noah did not sigh, though something close to it pressed at the back of his throat. Instead, he was patient as the rain stitched the forest together in silver thread. Her enthusiasm almost pulled a smile from him, but he kept his expression steady. Fatherhood had toned the hunter’s patience even deeper and further, a deep well made over time. “If we make a lot of noise they’ll run. And when luxere run in rut, they panic.” He shifted his weight slightly, lowering his voice. “A panicked herd can trample you. Or draw predators.”
He leaned forward, brushing rainwater from a half-disturbed track. “First, we listen. Or scent. But not with your ears alone, if yo can.” His eyes lifted between them. “We do not chase.” He relayed. “We position. We let instinct tell us where they will step next.”
Round 1! With either a shift or partial shift, listen for or try to scent out the herd!
waiting for the night to come
