Fallen branches and small underbrush crunched loudly as they announced the passage of a massive creature, its gait sauntering and unhurried. It moved with the confidence of lack of fear, as if it knew that nothing in the world would dare to even try and cross its path, and rightly so. Pupil-less white eyes deep set in a heavy, thickly horned and armored head swung back and forth, lazily seeking out anything that might pass for food in its path. Any creature with half a mind had already fled miles away at the approach of the monstrous battleheart – to stay was a certain deathwish. However, there was one individual that lurked in the shadows, yet unseen by the predator, trailing its wake of destruction silently.
The stalker was much smaller in stature than the quarry it was following, but of a similar build. However, where the battleheart was thick and heavily muscled, the Paragon in pursuit was slim and agile. He kept his wings tucked closely to his back to avoid rustling leaves or being seen, and only the very tip of his tail flicked from side to side, much like that of a hunting cat. However, the reason why such an outmatched hunter was pursuing this unlikely (and highly dangerous) quarry was entirely unclear. In fact, if anything, it seemed like an impossible task if there ever was one.
“Go on, you can take him. Just think of all the glory it’ll bring you when you go home as the champion who slayed the Terror of Tuun Mountain.”
The voice echoed only in the hunting male Paragon’s head, seeming to originate from his own thoughts. And why wouldn’t it? It seemed like a perfectly reasonable conclusion. After all, this beast had been terrorizing the mountains for years now with no one to stop him, and to be the one who finally ended the reign of terror…He would be a legend. Everything in his life would finally be right – he’d have the respect and admiration he’d always wanted, and perhaps even more.
However, what he didn’t know was that the voice did indeed have an owner of its own, and one who currently watched, unseen, from above. It was one of the perks of being a demi-god; Arktos had the rare ability to take on whatever form he pleased, and at this moment, it happened to be that of a small songbird sitting high in the treetops. Today was one of those rare occasions when his sister wasn’t around to keep tabs on him (or rather, try to keep him on a leash, or as she preferred to think of it, “mitigate some of his damage-doing”), and he intended to take full advantage of it. This young male Paragon who he’d happened to choose would be just the first of many others he’d visit later today, if things went as planned. But for the moment, everything was going exactly the way he wanted it to, and he was content to sit and watch the fun unfold from the safety of his temporary perch.
