[Lawtan]

From a high rise, a cloak weighted by the organized pockets – fishhooks, cartridges, jerky and staple – fluttered with a higher wind. From that cloak pointed three things. Lowest was the muzzle of a high-caliber repeating rifle, semi-relaxed. Above, a hand held a pair of binoculars. As the reflective magnifying lenses focused the scene below into a crystal clear image, a cold chuckle left the cloak.

“My, what an impetuous puppy. From time it took the gloryhound to fall, he seems near 68.4 kilograms. Decent weight, but not enough to prove a concern. The silly bark!”

A second hand appeared from under the cloak, letting loose a white feather to float in the breeze. After a few moments, the Huntress again relaxed. Such a joy for one to see estimated values confirmed. However, she – for indeed, the methodical mind was female – soon tensed at the sight of what appeared to be an arm of chitin bash the golden-haired man into a wall, like swatting at a blood-fly.

“Merda! Were that hound mine, I’d behead him for rashness! Heroes are useless before my brothers in Death. If he survives, that pup will need a proper leash.”

Godia, “Goliath” the huntress – self declared kin of Death – pushed aside the idea of seeing the head of the one to wake her prey splattered against the wall – to collect his gifted dead eyes – and the muzzle of the rifle moved to focus on the golden creature. It would be a greater annoyance for her bretheren prey to flee and her to reposition in response.
Reasoned skill, not recklessness, was what made an honorable hunt, and her golden brother deserved honor before returning to Father Death.

The winds poured from above to below alongside the principles of convection, carrying a near-invisible scent - the iron tang of skinned deer and minced fish. To not mask her scent was a rookie mistake that could frighten the beast.

Weighing in the wind and air resistance, a finger moved. Smoke left the muzzle. Seven times, metal pierced flesh. Too far to hear the satisfying crunch, Godia focused on reloading the rifle.

____________

Earlier:

Goliath returned with a smirk to the dirt roads and worn houses. Outside one house with opened windows, a man garbed in leathers hung the skins of goats and cattle out and coated them with lyme. Goliath approached, sadly without the benefit of stealth. The bodies of great stags were difficult to both drag and keep silent.

The man was used to dealing with Goliath, and though he knew she saw him as little more than a convenient machine ready to unplug, she provided more unique skins. The meats and other parts would go to exotic places that survived only because Lords paid a small fortune to once or twice a year eat like peasants.

“G’day, Goliath. Stag today, huh? Rather plain for your normal hunts.”

Goliath looked at the man as if measuring the electricity in his mind, then gave a false smile – a corner held the confidence of superiority. She knew that to play this game with people was useful – it allowed her to pursue her Purpose. It also set even those who knew her nature at ease.

“Quite so, old friend. I fear that the beasts have become more cunning in hiding from us hunters, and I’ve been missing one of my maps. Not to worry, though – I’ll get you some of the better skins and furs soon enough. One way or another, you don’t have to worry. So, how is the family?”

“They’re doing fine – well fine for this place anyway.” The man chuckled.
Goliath suddenly stopped with the smiles for a moment. Her face grew stern – an attempt of looking concerned.

“Ahh…I hear your nephew is interested in the filching business. Nasty business that. Never quite know when one will steal from the wrong sort,” she commented, then grinned, “Anyway, I wish him well. I have routes to rechart.”

For a moment there was silence. Then, the cries of the victims sounded, causing Goliath to shoot her head up in the direction. Cries of a challenge – cries of a hunt. Goliath, Godia to her self, smiled a true smile.

“You know, forget the map. Hold my funds for the skin. I’ll bring you back another.”
With that, Godia was off.