It’s not dying I’m afraid of
Killing is her job. She knows it, and it doesn’t bother her. Killing is something that has become routine, in a way. It is a thing she must do to live, and though she will never enjoy it, it is a fact of life. The hare runs into the trap and is caught with ease. Rising from her place, Weaver makes her way over to the hare and with both hands, snaps its neck. The kill is quick and clean, and she works to tie a rope around its legs for easy carrying. Not that it was all that hard to carry one small hare, but old habits prevail.
She waits for Korbin to come join her at this point, knowing he would not until the dirty work was done. Hunting has never been his cup of tea, and she appreciates him all the more when he comes to help her. She wishes he’d never had to learn, that they could have simply stayed a family and Korbin could have been left to learn the things he most wanted to. To become who he wanted to be. They were given no such luxury, though.
He lands, shifting back into himself. ”Nice find,” she says. Even if it is not much, this close to Deepfrost, and with so much foot traffic in the tundra now coming and going from the portal, game was getting pretty scarce. To find anything was a nice find.
She waits for Korbin to come join her at this point, knowing he would not until the dirty work was done. Hunting has never been his cup of tea, and she appreciates him all the more when he comes to help her. She wishes he’d never had to learn, that they could have simply stayed a family and Korbin could have been left to learn the things he most wanted to. To become who he wanted to be. They were given no such luxury, though.
He lands, shifting back into himself. ”Nice find,” she says. Even if it is not much, this close to Deepfrost, and with so much foot traffic in the tundra now coming and going from the portal, game was getting pretty scarce. To find anything was a nice find.
weaver
it’s dying without ever having lived
