Boar Hunting
The cold winds brushed gently across the furred clothing of a young Roli as she walked amongst the trees. She was picking up sticks, to fashion them into pretty things for her to decorate the woods with. It was a pastime of hers, something to do while she waited and bided her time. The mask attached snugly to her face was not tuned into any specific scent, allowing her sensitive snout to take in all the smells of the area. It was a pleasant spot she had found herself in, although she could not truly believe in this.
There was a creeping feeling of stress and anxiety that crawled on the back of her mind, twitching and writhing about. It was firmly attached to her psyche and kept her on edge, causing even the smallest of noises to make the girl wince. Her ears turned back and forth to pick up the crunching of snow or the snapping of a twig. Neither could be heard as she continued to peer around the area for wood. She looked at what she had collected thus far, only about two or three pieces worth anything. The rest was no good other than for a campfire. Though with the soon settling of the sun, that may be exactly what she'll have to use it for.
She adjusted her mask to tune in the scent of her peers, but it was faint as could be. There was little choice, she had delved too deep into the forests. The larger sticks, bar what she had for fashioning, were placed together into a conical shape. The smallest little brambles she shoved underneath to be lit first. Taking a small chunk of Rosestone out from her cloth, she struck it against the bramble and watched it catch fire. The night cold was starting to settle in as the world dimmed, the silent air feeling as if it was going right through her furs and into her skin. She knew the day cold, it was manageable, but she had never really known the night cold. Her nights were spent embraced amongst her tribe family, body heat sufficing.
This was different. Despite the fire, she could not hold it and obtain all its warmth without embracing pain. In the silence and strange cold, that anxiety lingered within her. Although tired, she could not find the calm to rest. It felt like eyes ogling her, something in the brush. Her eyes scanned the surrounding area with no yield to come of it. In an attempt to ease those shaky nerves, she began to whittle something of those sticks she found. A small knife cut slivers off and threw them into the fire, first trembling but soon in a refined and practiced manner. The first of the sticks was made into a little spoon that she pretended to drink the snow with, something that relaxed her and gave way to small chuckles of delight.
The next stick, a rather thick one that may be more akin to a stubby branch, was whittled into that of an effigy. She held the small wooden animal, which resembled a creature she once encountered in the woods. She recalled it being similar in size to a rabbit, but with scales and a rather long face. It had short little legs that had initially surprised her. The thing could not waddle on ground well, but it seemed to glide quietly through snow. It had ran from her so she hadn't gotten the clearest glance, therefore the craving was a little crude. She placed it down close to the fire, but not so much as to let it catch what the other wood had.
The Roli was halfway through carving the next stick, when she heard something crunch hard in the snow. She shot up from her spot like a bolt, holding the little whittling knife in her hand. Her eyes scanned around in a frenzy, but she couldn't see nor smell anything. Then she saw it. A fruit had fallen off a nearby tree and into the snow. Her body relaxed once more as she sat down, tired. Maybe it was time for her to rest then, her mind was too cautious but too exhausted to remain awake. She laid down on her side, back facing the fire as she didn't enjoy the heat on her face. Before fully going unconscious, she gave one last sniff to reassure her that her tribe was around, which they were. Smiling, her mind went to rest.
Wait, where were the other smells? Her eyes snapped wide as a creature covered in scales silently tore through the flesh of her throat.
The next morning, a tribe of Rosebutas came across a lone campsite. Nothing remained spare for a burnt out fire, a handful of wooden trinkets, and a mask. It seemed to be nothing more than the discarded bits from a deserter.