Erik Ricekeeper
[hr]

Down the mountain, the wind blew, carrying the scent of fire. Erik's eyes narrowed at the smell and the man turned to look in the direction it had come from. He slowly stood and stretched from his little camp, as he had taken to napping in the late day so as to stay active into the night. The steppes had always been dangerous during the day, but it was in the early hours of the night that the more cunning predators stalked. Silently the archer strung his bow, a surprising feat of strength, given the man's frame. He didn't sling it across his back, but instead held it, positioning his quiver at his waist.

It was silent, but for the whistling wind. Shadows from the slight hills were beginning to stretch and devour the land, but Erik didn't avoid them, instead choosing to skirt within them. It was best to avoid casting a shadow, and silhouettes could be seen from a great distance. Already however, he could see the light from the fire atop a large hill. Certainly a camp, though one would have to be brave to risk shining that light across the steppes. It was a beacon, but to what?

The huntsman examined the slope of the small mountain with distaste. Rocky, loose. It would be hard to approach the camp without being observed. He took a breath and patiently began a wide circle around the mount, hoping to find a path that wouldn't require him to show his presence.