The Hunt

The hunter silently wandered the woods, the whistle of wind blowing throughout the forest. The snow crunched under his feet. His hunting bow was slanged over his shoulder, he kept an eye out for potential game he could bring to his family. He looked behind him when a stick cracked aloud. He was only greeted by nothing.
He couldn't help but feel like someone was watching him. Ever since he cam across the pack of wolves that were slaughtered. At first he thought a bear did it, however on a closer look, it was done by someone with a bow and a sword. Strangely, there was no sign of a struggle. There might have been someone hunting them for sport, a waste. He would have brought them home, if it wasn't the fact they had been dead for weeks.
He noticed something ahead, it looked like meat being hung to dry, the hunter approached it. It was a bloody burlap bag, hung on a branch, strange that nothing had tried eating it. It looked fresh, the hunter was eager to finally have some game for food. As he cut open the bag he noticed something in it, before he found the brutalized remains of humanoid, he jumped back in fear. Who would do such a thing? It was horrific, not even orcs or goblins would dare to do this. He then noticed a craving in the nearby tree, the symbol of the Hunter.
An arrow struck the man in the shoulder, he looked to see who shot him, and in a tree he saw his attacker, thd Grim Hunter.

The hunter ran as fast as he could, but he knew he was doomed, he could hear the barking and snarls of wargs. He just needed to make it home, the village would protect him. He saw the smoke from a chimney, he was close. He ran out of the woods and screamed for help. It didn't last long as an arrow struck him in the chest, a chain connected at the end. He was pulled back to the domain of the Grim Hunter, never to be seen again.
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Arwin finished hanging up his newly caught prey, it was a fun hunt, but as always, he won. He fed his six wargs the meat from the other kill, he patted them on the head as they fed. He climbed up a tree and looked out the frozen landscape, waiting for his next target, his next prey. His cloak blowing with the wind.

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