[center] [h2][color=00746b]Anasthyn the Mute[/color][/h2] [/center]
[center] [sub] Location: Village on the Outskirts of Ballara's Capitol [/sub] [/center]
[hr]

The crumpling of leaves was the only thing foreign sound in the forest, as Anasthyn's boots moved silently across the ground. She knew these woodlands like the back of her hand. She could wind through them akin to a seamstress winding thread through a cloth. The sounds around her - the call of the nearby birds, the rustle of the crisp autumn leaves, the rustle of her sleeve against the tree - all of these sounds called to her. They spoke to her and she often felt like the spoke for her. 

The girl moved forward, preying careful on the young doe that she'd tagged earlier that day. She'd sent an arrow through it's right leg, wounding it far too much for it to keep up with its herd. It'd taken half hour, but she'd managed to follow it long enough for it to fall away from the rest of the herd. It now sat whimpering underneath a rock in a small mossy clearing. It was licking and nursing it's bleeding wound, completely unaware of the huntress that lurked, simply yards away. 

Presently, Anasthyn had already nocked a goose-feathered into the string of her finely crafted bow. The short bow had been made specifically for her by the village fletcher, and it served it's purpose well. She drew back the string and took careful aim, her eye picking a spot on the doe's neck, just below its skull, a part of the body that had little use to the butcher. She breathed a quiet breath and exhaled, at the end of which she let the arrow fly. Her aim was true, as the arrow sank through the deer's spine, painlessly and rapidly ending its suffering. 

The young woman stood and walked to the deer. She knelt beside the carcass, but not before looking to the sky and placing two fingers on her lips, then touching them to her breast, a sign of thanks to Odin. She removed the arrow from the doe and cleaned it, placing it back in her quiver. She unstrung her bow and replaced it in the leather sleeve that hung on her back with her quiver. 

About ten minutes later, she returned to the dried-up brook in which she'd left her pack and haul-cart. She loaded the deer and her provisions onto the cart and picked up the prongs, wheeling the car back towards her village. When she arrived, about an hour-and-a-half later, the sun was near setting. She walked past familiar people and buildings, arriving at the butcher's shop.

She walked to the back of the shop and knocked four times on the door. She stepped back and waited, the door opening a few moments later. The butcher, a tall-but-fat man called Horace, looked down at her with scrutinizing eyes. He was almost three times her weight, and his nearly six-and-a-half foot body towered above her not even five-and-a-half foot frame. "Ah, the Mute Huntress returns from a two day hunt with merely one pint-sized doe." He said with a sigh. She blushed, slightly embarressed by her haul (or lack thereof). She swatted her hand like she were scratching like wolf, indicating that a dire-wolf had interupted her hunt. 

"I see." Horace said, a slight purse in his lips. He nodded and they took the doe inside. He put it on the butchering table as Anasthyn waited for him to pay her. He stepped into another room, coming back with a large purse of coins. He handed her a sum of ten coins, but she frowned at the small amount. She pointed to the kill-wound at the top of the neck and indicated the large amount of usable meat she'd saved him. Horace sighed and added three more coins to the pile in her hand. While she thought it deserved more, she knew better than to press him. She'd personally seen him when angry and she was not fond of that state. 

With that, the Mute Huntress turned and left the shop, ready to sink into her flimsy bed at home.