He hadn't been this far away from him in months and the distance stretched with every inch his feet trekked along. But he didn't always need to return back to his home camp, for his trade lent to his tactics for survival. The soil here seemed thicker in this part of the Draconi Forest than in the ash and dust that he found abundant near the base of the Thunderblacks where, from the mountain crags, emerged the dragon flames that kissed the sky black. Or at least that was what the feel of it was beneath his sandal-like boots, which were still thin enough to detect objects underneath his footing, when he would traverse the ground with deft, but circumspective speed to track an animal on the run. And there were all sorts of beasts in this woodland, that Hysaeda could travel to its ends and still manage to find something promising to slay, skin, and sell. And though he was a hunter, it wasn't safe to say that he had a disregard for nature as with most hunters in this age.
In fact, he was a hunter in the truest sense. There was not a scrap of flesh or lug or kidney or skeleton that did not go to some use. He was accustomed to taking apart the bodies of deceased prey and forging sustenance or tools from their sodden and lifeless remains. Because there were few hunters in the Xelikuda clan to actually learn this esoteric trade, the majority of his acquired knowledge and wisdom was self-obtained. He learned by doing, not so much by observing. Yet if there was an activity he was not quite so familiar with, he would do his best to see what was going on as carefully as possible. He was never so rash as to attempt an activity that he would abruptly make a mistake and hurt himself. There were few times when he was filled to the brim with the hottest courage and driven to perform acts of madness that most would consider suicidal.
And of such moments, Hysaeda would speak to no one. He did not intend to be a mystery to anyone, but there were some facts that weren't necessary to disclose to even those that were closest to him. His father and cousin were the only family he had, but sometimes there were things that they were better off not knowing.
His time in the forest, with the land and verdant vegetation cluttering the floor and trees, was time for himself and no one could seize that from him. It was a certain independence that allowed him to escape from the troubles of home and from the troubles of man. Nobody bothered him here and when there was a mysterious passerby, he would greet them, offer them skins or other concoctions created from the hunt, undergo the proper exchange then be on his way. The funds were for himself, to spend as he pleased.
But that was in the best of times. Hysaeda kept to himself in most cases and would only approach traders who he knew were traders. The others were bandits and thieves posing as honest men. One could not be honest, unless they were sincere. And sincerity was a trait, he felt, was lost on this world for the current time. Most stayed away from the location of the tribes and nobody came and went except in times of warfare where active action was necessary for the protection of the clan. Enemies were slain and raided, the spoils taken home and distributed. But for some reason, in this part of the forest, these dishonest mortals were in a frightening abundance.
Hysaeda had been on the trail of a runaway deer for several days, tracking its habits and if they could sense his presence. He hid in the canopy of a nearby tree, one with a large trunk for easy scaling and a great number of branches that covered his trail. And his skin, which was like the shade of shadowy mud, too lent to his disguise in the darkness of the canopy. He observed the deer's movements like a wolf might when scouting food for the pack. Because he traveled with little more than his self-made body armor, sword and bow, and small travel bag, he didn't leave much room for movement as he shuffled for an arrow and set it into his bow.
And just as he set it to aim, stretching the string slightly as he went about, he saw that the deer he was about to shoot was suddenly startled and jumped from its position of eating. He saw it tremble at a quick shuffle and scramble that was far off to the side, before bounding off for safety. "Dammit," he breathed to himself, grimacing in disappointment. What had startled that creature? He wondered. He heard the noise too and thought that it was better to investigate lest such a moment happen again when he would least want it to.
When he felt the coast was clear he swooped down from the tree, landing on his feet and crouching close to the ground as he followed the sounds of voices coming closer to him. Immediately, he took cover behind the trunk as they made their way down the pathless wood. Like most bandits and dishonest mortals, they did not stick to the dictated paths created by the kingdoms but instead wandered into the unknown, as if they were daring enough to be prepared to face whatever lied before them. But these men, humans as he deduced, were not dressed like they were on an adventure, but as if the adventure was already to be had and they were returning to their own enclave with a purpose. But he didn't know what that purpose could be if they had a young girl trailing along with them. Tied and blindfolded no less!
Hysaeda gasped in surprise and was determined to discover these people's motives whoever they were. As they passed him up, he spotted one of them lagging behind. As he tried to get a better look, his foot snapped a twig and he suddenly held his breath as they paused for a moment. Then he heard.
"Tark, go check that out," one of them said.
"Aye," he heard another reply, one with a particularly similar voice to his own.
Hysaeda heard footsteps approaching and he immediately scrambled up the tree again in a desperate attempt to escape. He muttered something in Sevic, watching the man called Tark wander closer toward him and away from his buddy. He wore a mask the covered the top half of his face, hiding his hair and everything. His clothing consisted of a black leather suit that seemed too bulky for a man of his size but might fit Hysaeda perfectly. When he was sure Tark would not be seen, he jumped down from below with his sword in hand, slicing the bandit's throat, killing him instantly. It was then that he removed the man's suit, first taking off his mask and noticing that his flesh shade was almost as dark as his! By Umbra, this man may as well have been an Umbraeon himself!
Hysaeda pulled the man's suit over himself and planting Tark's body up in the tree. The suit was a bit awkward but he tightened it around his waist and planted his gear under the leather. The mask was last, placing it firmly over his head and he approached the bandit party. "Nothin' over there. Just a bunch of rats. Let's get going." He hoped that this disguise would be enough.
