Kathak knew his prey was nearby.
He had been to the wytch of Eloen and she had confirmed his hunt. She had blessed him with the hawk's feather totem which he still wore in his warrior's braid. She had told him it would flutter whenever he was on the proper trail. It fluttered now. It sounded far easier than it had been, however. The wytch had at first tried to beguile him, twisting his mind and bending his senses, placing false paths and temptations before him. But although she was powerful and full of tricks, Kathak had persevered.
Nothing would stop his hunt.
Kathak still wore the speartip of Unth on a thong around his neck. He had won it besting the finest stalker in the Roodsway Wood and it was said to bring luck and good hunting. It had done as much so far. But one should not think that Unth had merely handed over this mystical weapon open handed. Far from it. Unth had stalked him, and Kathak had hunted him in return, with poison-tipped spears amid a tangled rot of a leaf-littered forest as thick as the bristles on a boar's back. Kathak had persevered.
Nothing would stop his hunt.
Kathak could feel the weight of the thane's belt upon his hips. He had bested the dwarven thane of Irontip in a feat of strength to obtain the honor to wear such a belt. It conferred upon his the stalwart constitution of the dwarven race. He would never tire and never falter so long as he wore it. It did not come easy. The dwarf thane had nearly killed him as they wrestled and tossed one another about the red-hot iron cage. But Kathak did not give up and he had persevered.
Nothing would stop his hunt.
Kathak was determined to find his mother, no matter how far she ran.
Nothing would stop him from finding Jekka.
Not even his blindness.
Kathak knew his prey was nearby.
He could smell her.
He had been to the wytch of Eloen and she had confirmed his hunt. She had blessed him with the hawk's feather totem which he still wore in his warrior's braid. She had told him it would flutter whenever he was on the proper trail. It fluttered now. It sounded far easier than it had been, however. The wytch had at first tried to beguile him, twisting his mind and bending his senses, placing false paths and temptations before him. But although she was powerful and full of tricks, Kathak had persevered.
Nothing would stop his hunt.
Kathak still wore the speartip of Unth on a thong around his neck. He had won it besting the finest stalker in the Roodsway Wood and it was said to bring luck and good hunting. It had done as much so far. But one should not think that Unth had merely handed over this mystical weapon open handed. Far from it. Unth had stalked him, and Kathak had hunted him in return, with poison-tipped spears amid a tangled rot of a leaf-littered forest as thick as the bristles on a boar's back. Kathak had persevered.
Nothing would stop his hunt.
Kathak could feel the weight of the thane's belt upon his hips. He had bested the dwarven thane of Irontip in a feat of strength to obtain the honor to wear such a belt. It conferred upon his the stalwart constitution of the dwarven race. He would never tire and never falter so long as he wore it. It did not come easy. The dwarf thane had nearly killed him as they wrestled and tossed one another about the red-hot iron cage. But Kathak did not give up and he had persevered.
Nothing would stop his hunt.
Kathak was determined to find his mother, no matter how far she ran.
Nothing would stop him from finding Jekka.
Not even his blindness.
Kathak knew his prey was nearby.
He could smell her.
Story and Characters: (c)/by Brannon Hollingsworth
#MMWW, #Makes, #Me, #Wanna, #Write, #BrannonHollingsworth, #Kathak, #Irontip, #Jekka, #fantasy, #RoodswayWood, #Unth, #wytchofEloen
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