With no one by your side
But he was raised to be good. So, they would continue. People needed them to try and bring home meat despite anything else that happened out in the tundra. It was their effort, their tenacity, their grit as hunters that helped Halo stay alive. With all of his feelings--so many feelings he had never felt before--and the image of the man falling in to snow with two of his arrows sticking out of him burned into his retina, Noah would hunt.
He took the water from Korbin without hesitation and without resistance. He took a drink from it, more than he would have normally. He had not noticed his mouth felt dry until the water touched his lips. As the other attuned shifted and took to the sky, Noah capped the waterskin and placed it in the big pocket inside his hunting cloak. He could feel the moisture in the leather and fabric from his own sweat. He knew that wasn't good. He didn't know he had been sweating.
It didn't matter. He needed to keep going.
Noah crept out, eyes scanning the horizon as he did so. Every so often he would look up and try to locate Korbin, using the raven to dictate his course. The ground, from Noah's level, was as unforgiving as the raven's--there was not any sign of game. Noah swallowed hard, jaw tightening, and prayed to whatever god he could think of and whatever god would listen that the two hunters would be able to bring something home.
