Gale was a hunter. A talented one at that. Today, he was doing just that, hunting. His brain blocking out all the stress of each responsibility placed upon his back, each and every one of his most taxing thoughts fizzing away as if he was drunk as he slipped into his own world.

His eyes scan the forest, keeping his bow close, his ears pricking at each and every small rustle, creak and licks of water splashing against the edge of a nearby pond. He was in the zone, clutching his bag for his game over his shoulder.

Its eerily quiet, that is until he hears a yelp and the tug of a rope. He scrambles up, glancing in the direction he had set up his snares earlier, his heart is racing hoping it wasn't peace-keepers because then he'd surely be done for-- but it can't be peace keepers, surely not.

He sneaks to check one of his snares, eyes widening before he bites his lips drawing blood trying hard not to laugh. He'd caught a person in his snare.

Gale emerges from the trees, chuckling as he tilts his head upside down in a sort of condescending way, "a bit stuck are we?"

The snares were for the animals but, for some reason he didn't mind this, not one bit.