The Hunt Begins

The scent of blood was fresh. Orion’s ears flicked, catching the distant rustle of leaves. Prey was close. His grip tightened around his bow as he moved, silent as shadow, hooves barely disturbing the forest floor.

Golden light filtered through the dense canopy, glinting off the beads woven into his tangled braid. His sharp amber eyes locked onto the tracks—deep, heavy. A wounded beast, large. Perfect.

He notched an arrow, muscles coiled, waiting. A branch snapped to his left. His lips curled into a smirk.

"Sloppy," he muttered.

In one swift motion, he turned, drew, and loosed. The arrow flew, striking true. A guttural snarl echoed through the trees. The beast staggered, eyes glowing with fury.

Orion rolled his shoulders, grinning. "Come on, then. Let’s make this fun."