Hunt

Certain things catch your eye, But pursue only those that capture your heart.

His eyes were like night: still, penetrating, and inky black. The ocher war paint was smeared across his distinct cheekbones and forehead with brusque, uneven strokes. Stray smudges marked his chin, indicating where his face was held while the ocher was applied. Its crimson pigment contrasted sharply with the glow of the moon on his unusually pale skin.

 

An elaborate feathered headdress, or warbonnet, outlined his face, marking him as a man and prepared for battle. A loose feather tickled his right brow yet he did not move to brush the nuisance away. His gaze was focused on the target, calculating and precise.

 

His bow arm tensed when his victim shifted, stirring the leaves at its feet with a crackling crunch. After years of rigorous training, he moved with a feral grace that outshone that of a wild cat. Swift, noiseless, and deadly.

 

Quickly, he pulled the arrow against the taut bow string and honed in on his unsuspecting quarry: a youthful wasicun winyan, or white woman, with distinct curling locks and bright eyes. She breathed in painfully and turned, too late, towards her killer, locking eyes with him for a brief moment before the arrow was released.

Reviews

[mappingthenight]

This was so suspenseful! I loved the detail you captured of his eyes and the process of applying the war paint. I can't wait to see where this all goes!