<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 15px">In the far reaches of the frontier we find a remote village. It is a loose knit farming community.<br/>
A little farther out, near the edge of the valley of tillers, the silver peaked Mount Mysteria looms high and majestic over the Stokes family farm.<br/>
<br/>
Now this farm is not a venture for profit but rather a means of existence. A few acres of grain grow from the lush fertile soil. A roomy pasture for a few beeves and some smaller tracts for sheep and goats. You might see a couple of pigs by the barn and of course, a vegetable garden. But no farm would be complete without chickens.<br/>
<br/>
The chickens and sheep have been fewer in number as of late. A lone wolf has been spotted in the area. Most recently it was seen with a chicken in its mouth, before disappearing into a dense grove of saplings.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
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Benaiah, son of Giliad and Rachel Stokes, lives on this farm with his parents. He has vowed to hunt down and kill the thieving predator that is causing these losses. The family needs those chickens and their eggs. The chickens are a good food source and the eggs are a valued trade commodity. And the sheep that have been killed were an even greater loss.</span></span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 15px">Benaiah ( Ben- nay-uh) Stokes<br/>
24 yrs old<br/>
5'11" tall<br/>
Weight 170 lbs<br/>
Hunter/Archer/Scout</span></span></div>
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</div></div><div style="text-align: center">​</div><br/><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span style="font-size: 15px">Things cannot continue as they are. It is time for some damage control.<br/>
<br/>
Benaiah has made ready his bow. He has crafted the straightest of arrows and balanced the weight of his razor sharp broadheads with the weight of the crested shafts and fletches. (fletches made from chicken feathers) He has marked each one and tested their flight. He has chosen only those thatconsistently find their mark.<br/>
His aim is true and his shooting form is near perfect. His quiver holds six arrows but he only needs one.<br/>
<br/>
For days he has tracked the beast and knows its travel pattern. He has selected the perfect site for ambush. He is prepared.<br/>
<br/>
He bedded down early last evening to rise well before daylight. Under the cover of darkness he uses the soft radiance of the starlit sky to find his path. He has the eyes of a cat. He makes his way through the woods of the field edge. He continues on, going uphill, ascending the gentle slope of the mountain base. Stealthily he advances through the big timbers of Emerald Lake and cautiously enters into the evergreen Forest of Voices. He checks the wind. It is but a wisp from the Nor’east. He quietly moves across the final distance to his chosen spot. There he nocks an arrow and waits quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Just before twilight Benaiah sees the downy winding feather, which is attached to his bow, begin to lift slightly. The wind has increased, though barely noticeable. As it slowly moves through the trees , the whispering voices of the coniferous nettles can be heard. In unison they speak the word that they use to deter trespassers. The sound falls upon Benajah's ears in anelongated pronunciation:<br/>
<br/>
"... d-e-a-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-t-h ..."  <br/>
<br/>
Benaiah has heard the folklore about the voices but he doesn't allow himself to become fearful. He reasons they are merely stories told to young children so as to discourage them from wandering out into the wilderness. It is simply the sound of the morning breeze moving through the boughs of the cedars.<br/>
<br/>
Atop the distant ridge, a lone owl gives out his last hoot of thenight. The forest gradually stirs from its stillness as the creatures awaken and start their day. Benaiah hears the scurrying of the fox squirrel and the fluttering of tiny bird'swings as they dart through the bushes and twigs. He smiles when he hears the laughter of a raccoon.There is a gradualincrease in the number and frequency of the little pitter pattersand the tweets &amp; chirps. Soon there will be a chorus of nature celebrating life.<br/>
<br/>
At first light, Benaiah detects movement on the trail. It is the grey silhouette of a wolf. As it pauses behind a tree, the youthful hunter raises his bow. He waits for the creature to advance a step or two further and present the shot. He picks out the kill zone just behind the right shoulder of the beast. He settles his aim on the heart and lungs of his target. He dispatches his arrow, follows through and watches for the hit. There is a problem. An unseen twig has deflected the arrow and it has lodged in the shoulder bone of the wolf, completely missing the vitals. It is not a kill shot. The beast yipes in pain as it speeds away, disappearing into a thicket.<br/>
<br/>
Within minutes the sun has fully illuminated the forest. It'sbrightest beams angle down through the forest canopy and the foggy mist. The shining light kisses the dew that lies upon the wildflowers of various shades, shapes and hues.<br/>
<br/>
Benaiah carefully nocks another arrow, shoulders his pack and quiver and proceeds to the point of impact. A few steps away he finds that half of his arrow has broken off. The other part remains in the beast. He takes another step or two and there he finds blood droplets. He has picked up the blood trail.<br/>
<br/>
He begins to follow it. Sometimes it's easy when the bright crimson dots are in bold contrast to the ground. Other times he has to pause and study the area to see a mere speck of blood. Or perhaps a line of overturned leaves. A broken twig here, a paw print there. Then he happens upon a most puzzling thing. A barren place amidst the leaves, where it looks like the creature had fallen...and struggled.<br/>
<br/>
He studies the scene with fascination, hardly believing his eyes, but there at the edge of the bare spot is a human footprint. It leads away in the same direction of travel as the wolf was going. The tracks are clearly human. They look small to Benaiah as he compares them to the size of his own feet. He continues up the trail with his weapon still in hand and at the ready.<br/>
<br/>
"There must be another hunter tracking this beast." He thought."But there aren't any more paw prints. Only human. Hmm?"<br/>
<br/>
The trail was getting harder to follow and he was deeper into the forest than he had ever been. He was about to give up the chase and let the other hunter have at it. He Decided to continue to the top of the ridge he was climbing for a last view before turning back.<br/>
<br/>
Once he had achieved the new vista he beheld a tidy, well kept cottage that was nestled neatly on a flat clearing. It was surrounded by several mighty oak trees. There, laying on a cobblestone pathway by the gate was what appeared to be a person.</span></span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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Benaiah hastened down the slope to investigate. When he had drawn near enough to see in detail, he stood frozen in disbelief. Before him lay a young woman that appeared to be around 25 yrs old. She was completely unclothed and she was very beautiful. After a moment or two Benaiah collected his wits and drew nearer. His eyes widened greatly upon his next observation. He was quite shocked to see his broken arrow shaft protruding from her right shoulder! It was definitely his arrow because he recognized the signature cresting that he himself had painted on the shaft.<br/>
<br/>
"I know what I shot." He said out loud. "I shot a wolf."<br/>
<br/>
Seeing that she shivered from the chill of the early morning air that descended from the looming, snowcapped mountain peak, Benaiah removed his cloak and placed it over her. As he knelt at her side he brushed her hair from her face.<br/>
<br/>
It was at that moment that she opened her eyes and grimaced in pain.<br/>
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<a class="username" data-user-id="8" data-username="@Alchemy" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/8/">@Alchemy</a></span></span>