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Book Information Ancient Hunter's Journal
ID	8199
Collection	Scholarium Scribblings

Ancient Hunter's Journal

by Here-Seen

An ancient journal by a faun hunter

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3rd Day of Hare's Leap
Thirty arrowheads made from aether glass and dipped in oil of mer's bane. A bow shaped from ebonwood and strung with silken light. A poultice of ash and clay to mask my scent.

7th Day of Hare's Leap
The neighboring Lilmothiit have taken their kits and hidden themselves away. Such weak things. My tribe stands ready, horns sharpened and ears listening. We will not abandon our home.

10th Day of Hare's Leap
They are beginning to venture further from their encampments. Claiming rivers and groves as their own with no knowledge of their songs. They must mean to test our resolve.

16th Day of Hare's Leap
I sharpened his dagger. My little fawn would have been old enough to hunt had he survived winter's bite. May his hunger hone this blade's edge.

22nd Day of Hare's Leap
Blood has been shed today. A scout, barely a stag, killed by these peltless trespassers. Anger stirs the tribe; I see it in the flicking of their ears. Tonight we mourn, tomorrow we strike.

25th Day of Hare's Leap
We moved through the night like shadows and claimed six lives, one for each season our fallen kin shed his antlers. An even trade, fair in the eyes of the old ones. The ravens sang us praises upon our return.

30th Day of Hare's Leap
A fire rages in the old growth near our village. The wind is pushing it our way. We've gathered what we need and prepare to move further down into the valley, towards the rivers. Toward the peltless ones.

31st Day of Hare's Leap
It was a trap. Fire on one side, the blades of the peltless ones on the other. They called it vengeance. I call it slaughter. I escaped through the smoke.

5th Day of Fawn's Cry
My wounds have healed, but I still feel the weight of their screams. The smoke has cleared, and the fires have been put out. I can't find the scent of any survivors. I am all that is left.

8th Day of Fawn's Cry
I understand now what I must become. The peltless ones see me as prey. My antlers a trophy. My pelt a prize. They will know what it means to be hunted.

15th Day of Fawn's Cry
To the old ones, I pray. To the fallen, I cry. To my enemies, I curse.

They will know the taste of fear. For my name is Here-Seen. Witness to their crimes, last of my tribe, first of their vengeance.