It was the way things went.
The hunter stopped moving instantly, his mouth open and prepared to respond to Deimos, but silenced. The huff in the distance, the crunching of snow beneath massive paws--it was unmistakable. Noah didn't have to look for them, he knew where they were, and he knew why. As Deepfrost approached, the civilians of Halo were not the only ones looking to bulk up in food. His jaw closed with a snap and his eyes narrowed. Fluidly, Noah drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it. He glanced at Deimos from the side of his eye, glacier eyes to glacier eyes.
They two men had only one choice -- the ursurs needed to go.
Without speaking and without hesitation, the hunter lifted his body from his semi-crouched position and lifted his bow. Time seemed to move in slow motion around him. He breathed out slowly as he aimed his weapon. The pair of ursurs saw him quickly, their keen eyes always looking. The larger of the two -- male, he guessed -- bellowed and turned towards them. He stood ready, challenging, and Noah took it. He let his arrow fly.
It soared through the air towards the challenging creature and landed with a thick, sickening, wet thunk as it sunk into the beast's right eye-socket.
been crushed by its weight
there's no stronger message
than dirt in your face
