[center][color=FF4500][h1][b]Mirza[/b][/h1][/color][/center][hr]
There was a pleasant predictability that came with hunting wild game, that consensus reoccurring even after similar excursions under duly tangible stakes commonly spurred the rogue to muse as regards the hearsay of the pastime attaining to the level of sport among certain circles of nobility. Justifiably enough, the reasonably consistent state of his circumstances had largely led to a lack of detailed cognition of the affairs belonging to members of higher stations, people who have reached a state where survival itself is a trifle and diversion is an event all its own. One imagines [i]they[/i] might have weighty responsibilities just like anyone else and the amusement, however peculiar, may go a long way towards enrichment in the face of life's uncertainties.

He did have to admit, after a particularly stiff breeze rushed passed his hair and his resulting annoyance over his situation led his gaze to wander across the setting, from the late morning radiance that sparsely fell through the highest forest canopy and to a nearby crystalline stream set in a nigh timelessly verdant backdrop, that perhaps here lied a natural beauty that in some ways might make for an experience that can be appreciated regardless of one's position along the scale of affluence.

The branch crackled minutely in complaint underneath his boots, a shock that forced him to refocus and curse his luck that the five hundred pound wild bear showed itself just after he had successfully pinned an arrow to the side of a young doe's neck a few inches from the shoulder. The would-be prey frantically darted off. Securing it should have only been a matter of tracking it down and dispatching it when it's weak. Instead the chase was interrupted by the altogether more ferocious predator, Mirza breaking away from the chase and scrambling his way up the first large tree he could find. There were certain measures in mind in the event of the beguilingly fluffy monster tailing him, but his luck wasn't [i]that[/i] terrible as it turned out and after waiting for a generous amount of time with no bear in sight, he dropped down to the forest floor, miffed and finding the scenery to be of lacking consolation in light of his gnawing hunger.

But whereas the sense of adventure was enough to satiate the thrill-mongering wealthy, Mirza wasn't giving up until he had something to show for his efforts, though preferably something better than the prolific dark berries which he suspected were poisonous. In the end he returned to camp with two skinned rabbits, a very embellished story and a small bagful of tart but not untasty berries. At one of the campfires, the "hunter" could be found sluggishly preparing a pot of stew, enough to easily last him the whole day with some left over. He hadn't the slightest clue where the deer he shot had ended up, his thoughts dwelling upon its enigmatic fate.