Elf Warrior

Nature balances itself

Branches swept past overhead. He dashed across branches. Jumped, soared, ducked. His feet carried him swiftly and silently from tree to tree. He was born to do this. Then he sensed it. His pace came to a sudden but inaudible halt. The hunter chasing his pray. Violent and hideous they were. These skulking creatures. Abominations of nature, that shouldn’t be able to live. A vile and disgusting anomaly. He suppressed a shiver. Nature should be in harmony. It was the Elves’ job to protect that very balance, even at the cost of ending the imbalance with death.

The stench… It was close. it wasn’t easy to detect with sight, but the smell betrayed its location. He clutched his bow and brushed the feathers of his arrow. But something rustled in the bushles behind him. As he turned, the smell grew exponentially. The branches were pushed aside and the yellowish hue of the monster eyes stared directly back at him. Had the hunter become the hunted… ?