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[hr][@RC3]

Hunger gnawed at the root of Cull's mind as he stalked through the underbrush.  He had set out alone, only a thick branch with a poorly sharpened tip to keep him company. Slowly, carefully, and deliberately he crept, his head on a swivel; searching for potential prey.  Somehow, part of him knew what he was doing-- but the thoughts were fuzzy, and out of focus. Was it instinct, perhaps? Or something else entirely?

His grip shifted on his rudimentary spear. It felt familiar, like a weapon that belonged in his hands, a weapon he [b]knew[/b].  But wasn't this his first time holding such a thing? A pounding headache dissuaded the youngling from trying to rationalize the strange sense of Deja Vous, food came first. Before long he came upon a clearing, where two animals were already fighting, the smaller of the two seemingly winning the struggle.  Cull's breathing quieted as he narrowed his eyes at his prey, clearly the smaller brown animal was both faster, and stronger.  Watching, waiting, moving ever so slowly-- the goblin stealthily positioned himself to come from behind the victor, intending to wait for their battle to be in its final moments before he would creep up, and [b]thrust[/b] his spear into whatever animal had the upper hand. 

It was simply a test of patience.