∴ A Wild Hunt ∴
Kneeling, you brush aside some fallen leaves. The tracks are barely visible in the still-damp earth, but they’re clear enough to confirm your fears.
The lines in your weather-beaten skin grow deeper as you grimly consider your quarry’s certain endpoint. No man would voluntarily go where you are headed. You find yourself reaching for the broad-bladed sword at your hip. Chances are you’ll need to rely on your oldest friend before this hunt meets its end.
The weather is unnaturally cold for early autumn, the chill already creeping under your clothes. You wrap your cloak tightly around you, hiding the ancient blade from unkind eyes, and turn to the North.
You know you are close now, but your instincts still urge you to hurry.