The ground was soft, loam-like in nature - no harder a trail for a hunter than the fleeting ripples left for the fisherman's eye. The tall, almost ethereal presence of the man's figure remained masked by the density of the trees - his own eye crept along after the muddy imprints with a collected ease, tracing snapped twig and trampled leaf alike in its quiet analysis; West...Southwest, to be specific. . .and close. He released a quiet breath, gently alleviating a stone-tipped arrow from its stuffy quarters, ears on the alert for the slightest creak or huff of the stag's powerful lungs. Yet for the odd mocking rustle of the larch, the forest floor remained silent, continuing to mask the beast's presence.

The bright-star's rays glittered softly through the peaceable canopies, but he could already make out the dim edge of The Black just beyond the way. With any luck, they'd finish their game under the nurturing rays of The Light, and he could pack in his prize without much undo hassle. The hunter stopped to contemplate his chances, easing his slouched posture closer to the ground as he reexamined the situation. There was always the possibility that he'd simply underestimated the brute - though he couldn't help but pull a soft smile at that thought. No doubt it knew this place better than the most vigilant scout, but it was still a rare thing for their kind to risk an unwanted encounter with a Shadow Cat, or a Crying Woman. Etorhn rested his cheek on his hand while he thought, playing between the subtle boundaries of dark and light with the drifting composure of pensive eyes.

"...What're you up to, four-toed friend..."