Hunting [private]

Age : 28 Posts : 3145

Flashback.

The young-looking man was poised, his body taut and his brow creased, his emerald eyes focused on a single point in the far distances ahead. His irises had a particular glow to them this day, but whether it was the sun's mysterious work or some odd, hunger or desire, whichever it might have been, the solemn, deathly intent was evident. He was the epitome of a predator, his muscles, alike an engine, stretching, flexing, tightening, relaxing - alike pistons, alike machinery, grinding and working against bone and under the flesh, fixing themselves in their ideal places. He was holding a bow, the intensity of his fingers near-breaking the wooden-thing; the string and the arrow which he notched, were awaiting the finger-tips to let go, frozen - in time - awaiting, in perfect stillness, for the moment of release - of ecstasy. His legs were apart - the perfect distance, granting him the perfect sense of balance - and the knees were tense, lowered, allowing him a half-crouching position, allowing for his upper body to sit more comfortably on the foundation provided by his long, slender, muscular limbs. The bear moved in to view.

The beast was the vivid representation of rawness and violence. His towering, heavy body betrayed the intensity of its paws, as did the subtle tremble of the earth every time it moved. Its claws had a terrible, captivating power to rip flesh with the ease one ripped paper in twine; its jaws, once closed, could never be pried apart, not even by the godly man and his usually-suffocating presence. Yet his influence here, here among the kingdom of this animalistic, daunting, pitch-black giant - a pet of darkness itself - was frail and failing. He allowed himself a second of fear, before such distracting thoughts were completely stifled. Humans were far more dangerous than bears, he reminded himself dully, his eyes flickering to his left, where an unidentifiable shinobi lay dead, two arrows decorating his throat. The second had been unnecessary, but the young man was not a supporter of half-measures. Surely there would be no political backlash, and either way, who started a war over one man? Shingen knew full well which village said man was from, but the information meant little to him.

The bear crushed leaves under his fore-paw; the bear was moving; the youth was moving.