Hunting? It can't be that hard... [Valerian Solo]

Valerian had only to spend a sevenday on the so-called Candidate’s Isle before he was deemed safe to their society with no chance to attempt an escape back to the north. The fact that he had been swept south with no chance to ever return to the life he had known didn’t bother him as much as he knew it probably should. He enjoyed his down time with either lazing about or with his music both in the north and in the sweltering south, and there hadn’t been any snot-nosed kids to drill the basic core songs into, which was the part Valerian hated the most about his craft, so why would he want to go back? True he had family in the north but they rarely saw each other given how often he travelled and how far away his placements could take him. That was another reason why he was more or less fine with his current situation; he grew bored easily of his environment and the people occupying space around him. Everything about Katila was new and interesting with people that were either quirky and somewhat amusing or easy on the eyes.

Yet even with the beginning steps of being trusted taken when the approval he could join the weyr properly was given, Valerian was still surprised when he was eventually given weapons for his assigned chore. A chore, he grumbled once again, that he had no business attending to as he lacked every skill needed for it and had no desire to traipse through the lush land with the goal of hunting animals. He’d rather be on the hunt for a quiet place to hide when he was finally tasked with teaching all of the brats running around the weyr. Perhaps he could move back to the Isle, stating he had urges to sabotage their home and build a raft for freedom?

Too bad he believed in the teaching ballads and old records and knew you couldn’t fool a dragon that easily.

So there he was with a crossbow, not a guitar, held in one hand, a quiver of arrows slung over a shoulder, and a short knife strapped to his belt, staring at the greenery that was to be his playground. He hadn’t moved for several minutes after the man issuing the chores and tools spun him around and gave a gruff order to get to it if he wanted to eat. How could he? His hands were made for gently moving over instruments, not for killing of any sort. His eyes were used to track, yes, but people socializing at Gathers not animals that camouflaged so well with their surroundings. What did he know about tracking prints in soil?

Then again, with the sound of bickering coming from one hut, children giggling from another, and a rider cooing at his dragon not too far away, the forest was the lesser of two evils at the moment. Besides, he was a man of learning and where was the harm in at least attempting a new skill and then gloating when he came back successful? With a small grin, Valerian started forward.

Unfortunately confidence only went so far without proper training. Figuring he should at least have his bow at the ready for when he came across his game, Valerian attempted to nock an arrow only for it to slip free of its hold and knick his finger. A hiss of pain was given and with the odd natural instinct to stop the bleeding and pain that so many did, he sucked on the wounded digit, aware of but ignoring the metallic tang that hit his tongue in a slow trickle.

“Yes, this was a splendid idea,” he grumbled to only the trees and the light breeze that caused that soothing sound of leaves rustling against one another. Eyes fluttered shut and a deep breath was taken as Valerian centered himself once more by listening to nature’s song. True he was a Harper and not a huntsman, but the overwhelming desire to return with anything but empty hands had him shrugging off the one small misstep and continue on. It was much like in learning music; if you hit a sour note, you went back and tried it again until you mastered it. It was with that philosophy that Valerian loaded his crossbow and this time achieved the desired outcome.

Now to find something to shoot.

An hour passed with only a wherry spotted but it ran off before the bow could be positioned. Valerian attributed this to the way he moved in the lush forest and attempted a lighter step, rolling each from heel to toes in such a way that even he was surprised that such a simple adjustment could make such a large difference. Too bad it was slightly awkward and it also adjusted the speed in which he moved but the outcome would be worth it, he kept reminding himself every twenty or so paces.

Finally, his patience paid off, or so Valerian hoped as he came upon another wherry. Quickly, and as quietly, as he could, the crossbow was once again lifted into position and with a wish for a straight and true shot, the trigger was pressed. The arrow went flying, as did his confidence, as it looked like his first properly released arrow would find its way to its mark. Only, it didn’t. There had been a slight recoil that jerked his aim just enough at the release he didn’t know about due to a lack of practice beforehand that ended up sending the arrow whizzing by the prey and into the trunk of a sturdy tree. Before he could truly comprehend what had happened, the wherry squawked and took off running while green eyes stayed trained on the arrow lightly vibrating from the penetration of the wood.

“This really shouldn’t be that difficult,” again, Valerian grumbled as he forgot his purpose of being stealthy and stomped up to the tree that held his arrow captive. He could just imagine the fuss that would be kicked up if he didn’t return with every last item he was issued so he reached for the arrow, fingers wrapping around the shaft and pulled but to little effect. With his grip tightening Valerian tried again only to be met with resistance once more. Frustrated and wanting nothing more than to return to the weyr and soak in the bath, he tried for a third time, this time both hands lending to the task. With one good tug he found himself flat on the ground but he had the arrow! Bonus points were awarded for not landing on the bow that had been set aside to procure the useless item that had to have a crooked shaft given the way it flew.

As he rose to his feet with hands first mopping at his sweating brow and about to brush away dirt and forest decay, a rustling sound to the left alerted Valerian to something approaching and his attention went from his personal grooming to his personal safety. It seemed he wasn’t the only one hunting that hot late afternoon and not the only one targeting unsuspecting wherries for a pride of wild felines emerged from the bushes, one carrying his prey in its maw. For a moment time stood still as he had a foolish hope that if he didn’t move they would ignore him and continue on but with his luck that day, even he wasn’t surprised when several growled deep in their throats and crouched down in a protective stance.

Without any debate on the matter, Valerian turned on his heel and took off running. That was likely the pride he had heard a few of the weyrfolk mentioning that was menacing their borders and being a general nuisance. It made no difference to the young harper that he had multiple pointy objects on his person and could take out one or two while scaring off the rest to perhaps earn further respect from the new society to which he now belonged. It also didn’t matter that he ran from a group of wild felines since no one was around to witness such an act and bruise his ego. He may give off the impression that he didn’t care about most things but he did have a sense of self-worth and knew when to choose flight over fight.

He hadn’t been running for long when the karma he was clearly dealing with for whatever reason today reared its ugly head once more. He was a sure-footed man but on a terrain he was unfamiliar with and that was uneven as forests were wont to be, Valerian soon found himself stumbling and falling face first for the ground he had already seen enough of for the day. He still held an arrow in one hand and the bow in the other so catching himself didn’t seem like the best of ideas though he still did, on the forearms and knees as he tumbled and skidded across sticks, stones, and who knew what else. Frantically he rolled over, preparing to defend himself from hungry felines only to find they hadn’t followed, no doubt content with their current kill. That was fine by Valerian and as he moved to stand and once again clean himself off, he found the process a tad more painful.

Wincing at the pressure on his left foot, Valerian parked himself back down and surveyed the damage. His arms were scratched with dirt smeared all over them but nothing seemed too major, but his knees were now visible through his pants and they looked a bit worse for wear. “Seriously? I’m not a clumsy person. What is wrong with this profession?” Aggravated and now content with the idea of returning alive so he could enjoy that bath, Valerian grabbed at one of the larger stones scattered around him and chucked it at the nearby stream he could hear trickling through the wooded area. Naturally, where he desired to hear the satisfying ‘sploosh’ of the heavy object hitting the water he was instead given a strangled quack followed by a dull thud.

With his natural curiosity piqued, Valerian staggered to his feet, grabbing the tools of this so-called trade, not caring if anything was now broken, and went to the area of the stream where he had tossed the stone that made mysterious sounds. There, lying at his feet, was the corpse of a duck with his stone sitting beside an obviously broken neck. The sight and the realization of what he had done broke through Valerian’s usual control of emotions and he burst out laughing.

“You have got to be kidding me!” He was howling with laughter, nearly hysterical from it given everything that had led up to the stroke of good luck, and ended up wiping away a tear that formed from the fit, leaving a streak of dirt across his cheek. He didn’t care. He now had something to show for his efforts.

Picking the duck up by its limp neck, Valerian gave a final chuckle before reigning in his emotions and resuming control. “Eh… good enough.” It was actually a pretty pathetic haul but he suspected he had been pegged as not getting anything on his first attempt and this would at least prove his doubters wrong and he was all about doing that.

By the time he returned to the weyr his ankle didn’t hurt quite so much though he did still walk with a slight limp as the cuts on the same leg were starting to throb. As much as he wanted that long soak in hot water, Valerian felt a quick stop to see a healer might be in order. But first he had his spoils to deliver and he did so with his usual indifference, placing first the tools on the table in the kitchen area and then the duck.

“My contribution to our fine dining this evening.” Without waiting to hear any comment made on his success or his appearance, Valerian turned and made a steady, albeit limping, march to the healing hall.