[indent][center][i][h1]Of Slings and Spears I[/h1][/i][/center]
[i][quote]Although simple in concept, the hunt is as vital of a craft as the rest - if not the most vital. Just because the blessings of Avros have allowed us to cultivate the land and herd animals, it does not mean that we must grow complacent. Hunting is ingrained within an Eidolon's life-force.[/quote][/i] – Emyr, First Hunter of the Lyra clade[hr][/indent]
[b]"Get down, boy, down!"[/b] His eyes were locked onto the fleeing xo when a gruff, baritone voice snapped behind him, and a hand abruptly pushed his head down, shoving his face into the mud below. As he tasted the bitter and unpleasant soil, the youngster's mind reeled as dangerous thoughts fueled by anger and frustration slowly started to take form, but the man atop him had other plans.

[b]"Haah..."[/b] sighing quietly, his hand tightened around the boy's nape, the mark on it slowly turning a dull red. He put a little more force behind his push, pinning and keeping the boy on the ground. What with the rain that had graced the area relatively recently, the air had yet to completely lose its moisture and, as the man behind him shuffled closer, the boy felt the clammy skin of the man's chin slightly touch his pointed ear.

[b]"Get. Your. Act. Together."[/b] The man's voice, more akin to a growl at this point, made the hair all over the boy's body stand on end. [b]"This is not a game, but a hunt, and you..."[/b] the man grabbed a tuft of hair from the back of the boy's head, forcefully making the trapped youngster face him before continuing. [b]"Are. Here. To. Learn."[/b] Every word had been accompanied by a tap on the forehead, right between the two small, jutting horns that hid under the bangs of dark brown hair covering his son's head. Although his face had been muddied, the scrunched-up expression that hid under all that – as well as the emotions that he felt flowing into him through his hold on the boy's neck – told him everything that he needed to know about what his offspring thought of his words.

[b]"Understood?"[/b] For several seconds, the two simply stared at each other in the eyes, but right before that itchy, tense feeling of conflict became palpable, the boy retreated his gaze. Seeing this, his father held him down for a split second longer before unhanding him and, as if nothing had happened, gave a couple of pats on his son's back before standing up and walking out of sight.

Although free now, the boy's pride had been injured. Slowly, he crawled back up to his knees and then to his feet whilst dusting off debris and grass that had tangled up in his clothes, all the while mumbling silent curses. As his hand made a pass over his side, he felt a bump on the animal hide – his coat had, somehow, slightly torn at that place. At the realization of what would happen once they returned home; the young man simply hung his head in defeat. [i]"Time to bust out the sewing kit, mother's not going to be pleased…"[/i]

After some time had passed, the sound of hooves entered the boy's ears, and he rose his head to look at his father walking back with two horses trotting behind him. He watched as the trio circled around the small boulder he'd made his sitting place before coming to a stop behind him.

[b]"Did you retrieve the stones?"[/b] His father asked, one hand extended towards him. The boy glanced at the corded loop, the reins of one of the horses, then looked back at his father for a moment before gazing back down. The man stood a good one and half heads taller than him and had quite the muscular physique. At first glance, not many would think that such a man was good with tasks that required finesse and precision, but his father had time and again shattered that notion by being the best slinger their clan had raised.

[b]"Yes,"[/b] the boy replied absentmindedly and made to grab the reins, only to be slapped in the head with them, eliciting a pained grunt. He swiveled his head back up and was simply met with a cold gaze, again reminding him his place in the hierarchy. [b]"Yes [i]father[/i],"[/b] he corrected his speech whilst gritting his teeth.

The ride back to the clan had been uneventful, something that the boy thanked the gods for inwardly. They had risen early in the morning in order to catch the long-furred xo herd before they began moving, and had wasted a good half a day on the hunt before his father called it quits. Upon their arrival, the sun had long set over the horizon; a multitude of colors washed over the plains as the afterglow of twilight preluded the arrival of darkness over the land.

Their clan could not really be identified as one; four families worked together to survive in the rough environment their ancestors had called home. The boy thought back to the teachings of the elder storyteller – a grandmother of one of his friends – of how some decades earlier, four hunters and their spouses had split off from a larger clade due to some infighting. Even though the northern bands have, and still do, shared some friendly interactions, it was known that foreign Eidolons did not really integrate well into a different clade. As such, the four couples had decided to start their own little band.

Fast forward to the present and the band has grown in population, but the four families remained a constant, albeit in name only. This was mainly because they had split the different responsibilities between the four, with each family overseeing specific things within the clan's chain of operations. The first two had been in charge of the traditional hunting and herding of xo as well as protection, while the other two families mainly dabbled in the spiritual, medicinal and manufacturing fields. As a result, society had grown to be quite regimented, with everyone assigned a role and a job from a young age.

A whistle from his father brought the boy back to reality, and he turned his attention to the front where two more riders on horses approached the returning duo. The boy saw his father pull further up front as one of the two riders mirrored him, with the two coming to a stop a couple xo's length distance ahead. Leaving the adults to their business, the boy rode the horse around and approached the other rider, another one of his close friends.

[b]"Dylan, you son of a bitch!"[/b] The boy called out as the two locked forearms in their usual greeting.

[b]"Hey now, you're sure you want to be talking about your aunt like that?"[/b] Dylan said as his eyes twinkled with mirth, his mouth twisting into a sarcastic smile. [b]"Anyway, you look like you took a tumble in the xo pens, Cedric. What happened?"[/b]

His cousin's questioning stare only served to immediately sour Cedric's mood once again. After glancing back to his father, he snapped on the reins, making the horse trot further inward and towards the encampment, all the while motioning for his cousin to follow.

[b]"Better get off these horses, it's getting late. I'll tell you on the way to the tents."[/b] Cedric said with a stony expression on his face.

[hider=Summary]We start off quite abruptly as a man shoves a young boy's face into the ground. The man is clearly angry about something, and will not put up with the boy's rebellious attitude. We come to know that they were a father and son pair, and that they were out hunting - mainly as a training exercise. The boy had somehow fumbled and missed the target, causing it to flee. The father is obviously displeased, and made that clear to his child before walking off and retrieving their horses. There is some back and forth again before they ride the horses back to their clade. 

After that we get a small description about the structure of the tribe and how it came to be. By the time the two return to the band's encampment, its just a little after the sunset, in the wee hours of twilight. They come across two more riders, and the two adults separate from the youngsters. The two boys greet each other, and we finally learn their names: Cedric, the hunter's son, and Dylan, his friend. Again, there's some banter between the two, before Dylan expresses worry about Cedric's state i.e. being head to to in mud. Cedric motions for his friend to follow him back to the tents whilst explaining the day's happenings.
[hr][b]No divine beings involved, hence no vigor gained.[/b]
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