Bow drawn, an arrow right in its place... ready to strike forth, delivering a swift death to the creature in his sights; a small rabbit. Cyrus Kingsdale was inhumanly focused. If he didn't get this rabbit, he wouldn't eat tonight. He got closer, stalking the rabbit silently. It hadn't noticed him yet; that was very good. Once he felt confident in his distance, he released his arrow. It left the bow, traveling almost faster than the eye could see. With a small yip, the rabbit was dead. The arrow found its mark in its tiny heart. "Gotcha." Cyrus ran up to the carcass, picking it up and pulling the arrow out of it. "I'd say you're a keeper." He whispered, taking out a leather sack he had tied to his side. He tossed the rabbit in and tied the sack back up. He slung his bow over his shoulder and sighed, deciding to take in the sight and smell of the forest before he headed back.