[maikafanawen]

They set in to camp in the early evening when only the fading red rays of the setting sun shone through the most open parts of the canopy. Taurëwen and Reynion had gone off for brushwood so that the elves might cook something to eat other than the dried fruits and nuts they’d been eating these past few days.

The job of hunting had been assigned to Ihwesta and Arië who took it up gladly. Their days of walking had taken its toll on the two trackers and they decided to make a game out of their little task. Making their way absent from the others, Ihwesta unhooked the quiver from her belt and chose from it three black arrows. These she held in her hand, leaving the others where they were on the ground at the base of the black poplar. Arië did likewise.

Their bows over their shoulder, the two laid out the rules.

“Right,” said Ihwesta looking around. “Ye can go no further than two hundred yards in either direction. Ye may only use the three arrows chosen and must hit the target so that it dies instantly or else it won’t count.”

“Of course, if that does happen, we’ll still take it back to cook we won’t leave it,” insisted Arië thinking of their animal-tender friend.

“Naturally,” agreed Ihwesta humourously. “Alright on my mark we’ll go. Be back here with your catch and whoever gets here first with three animals wins, unless ye loose all your arrows then come back anyhow. Got it?” Ihwesta looked towards her friend in gaming. Arië nodded readily.

“Go!” The two women raced off in opposite directions, bows at the ready with the first arrow notched in place. Within ten seconds of the start one of Ihwesta’s black shafts had whispered through the air and found its mark in a large hare, sitting at the base of a mature beech. The she-elf leapt over the gorsebush separating her from her catch and quickly put the game into her bag that hung around her neck and under her left arm, resuming her hunt immediately.

Not fifty yards away, Arië was having her own success, the forelimb of her first catch hanging slightly out of her bag. It was then that the stag came into view. His neck was bent down as he lapped water from a cool running stream. Thrilled that she had found him first, Arië aimed at the deer. Before she could loose the arrow, the stag’s ears pricked and its head shot up in alarm. Swift as the shaft notched in her bow, he darted away through the trees into the shadows, first Arië thought to go after him but as she moved into the clearing, Ihwesta joined her.

“You saw him too!” exclaimed Arië.

“Shush,” Ihwesta said, staring at the place where the stag had disappeared. Suddenly Arië’s senses also picked up the presence of a second, larger creature moving through the forest, just beyond the clearing’s edge. The two crouched down and moved quickly back into the shadows, waiting for the creature to show itself. The rustling of undergrowth grew louder and nearer. When it seemed like the beast was just out of eyeshot, it retreated again and vanished.

“What do you think it was?” asked Arië, peering into the darkness after it.

“I haven’t a clue. But it wasn’t a wolf like we thought.” The other tracker agreed, adjusting her rabbit’s leg so that it was emerged entirely. “Did ye have much luck?” queried Ihwesta, trying to get a peek inside her opponent’s bag. Arië quickly shut it, an enigmatic smile on her face.

“You’ll find out when you return to the clearing to see me standing there first!” and with that the two parted again, taking up their game. In another ten minutes, Arië returned to the clearing to see Ihwesta there first, two decent sized conies laid out on the ground before her. The youngest let a slight elvish curse escape her lips before revealing her own catch: three small rabbits.

“Smaller game is harder to pursue!” Arië argued.

“Sorry mate,” said Ihwesta, unmistakable satisfaction written on her face. “It looks like you’re going to be cooking dinner to-night!” In a much lighter mood than they had been in when they started out, the two elves made their way back to camp where Arië talked Eruwen into cooking their catch.

“Do you think we should tell Ceros about the stag?” asked Ihwesta as she savoured the brilliant stew concocted by Eruwen. Arië glanced towards their leader and shook her head.

“No. I don’t think it anything serious. The deer might have sensed one of us.” Doubting the probability, Ihwesta finished her light supper and took out a sheaf of parchment on which she drew a portrait of the stag they had seen. It was a magnificent creature, and Ihwesta was almost glad neither had caught it. Although, thought the elder as she drew, It would have been a pleasant feeling to see the look on Arië’s face when it had dropped dead from Ihwesta’s shaft right before her eyes! Smiling to herself, she finished the drawing as the fire dwindled and others began to settle themselves down comfortably to enjoy their first break.

“Well done on the catch,” said Airelómë as he walked by where Ihwesta and Arië were seated. “It was just what we needed.” He winked before moving on to join Ceros and Ainemetion. Ihwesta’s gaze lingered on the trio before resuming her portrait. It was relaxing to sit here by the fading firelight with her sketchbook, listening to the scattered conversations of her companions.

“I hear it again,” said Arië suddenly, looking up from her musings. “That’s the third time Ihwesta, let’s go find out for sure.” Airelómë saw them stir in concern and stepped in. The two trackers told Ainemetion, Ceros and Airelómë of their thrice encounter with the sounds of the same sort moving through the dense forest.

“I’ll go check it out,” vouched Airelómë. “The two of ye have been out hunting already and it’s time for ye to enjoy our break.” Before either could agree, not that they would have, he was off, bow in hand, in pursuit of the mysterious creature.