[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

Hunter parked his jeep over by a large boulder, and stood up so his head and shoulders were above the open canopy. He put his binoculars to his eyes to scan the horizon, slowly moving from left to right, focusing on anything which appeared to be moving. The rifle strapped to his back was a comforting weight, and the radio attached to his belt occasionally beeped quietly, signalling a frequency had been picked up. He breathed quietly, and zoomed the binoculars in for a better look.

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

There, faintly glowing in the shadow of a large boulder, was his quarry - a young female zipala, hardly of age, with a broken horn and a limp. The herd had moved off some time ago, but she seemed to be unable to continue, and he suspected she was ill as well as injured.

He sat back in his seat, and started the jeep, carefully nosing it around the boulder and off across the plains, before stopping a short distance from where she lay.

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

He stood and raised his head and arms above the canopy, but she didn't stir, and he peered through his binoculars again. Now, it was clear she had already passed - her head was lying at an odd angle, and her chest did not move, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Though putting her out of her misery had been the kindest solution, it was nevertheless one he disliked; hunting down dangerous predators that were straying too near to settlements, or known man-eaters who purposely hunted people was one thing, but zipala were harmless.

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

He stepped out of the vehicle, and pulled out a neckerchief, which he doused with water from his canteen before tying it around his face to cover his nose and mouth. He pulled out his large knife, and after a careful look around to make sure no predators were stalking him in the short grass, he stepped forward towards his quarry.

She had definitely been ill; her ribs were jutting as if she couldn't put on any weight, and the whites of her eyes were a nasty yellow shade.

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

He grimaced, and skinned the carcass quickly; no doubt the local scavengers would have their fill of the diseased meat in due course, but he needed the hide to prove he had found and taken care of his quarry, and he returned with it to the vehicle, to roll it up and wrap it in canvas to preserve it.

He wondered if he would get to keep it; she had a lovely pattern, and the fur - though not as bright as more healthy specimens - was very soft.

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

He turned the radio up, so that the chatter of static could be heard, and raised it to his mouth.

"Hotel Foxtrot to Bravo Oscar, coming in with the package, over" he spoke into the radio, pushing the button to transmit. He released the button, and was rewarded with a crackle of static and a very faint murmur which he assumed meant some sort of affirmation - he was almost out of range of the radio tower, and nothing could be heard clearly though the radio would serve as an emergency call if necessary.

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

He started the engine, and as he pulled out of the shade the first Sahound appeared in the distance, sniffing the air as if it could smell the carcass - which he reasoned, it probably could. He certainly could, despite the neckerchief still tied around his face, and he assumed the hide was too polluted for the canvas to hold the stink in. It was a shame, really - she had had such lovely fur, but if it was too rotten it would need to be disposed of.

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

Soon, the sun would set - it was already low enough that the horizon was blinding, and he stopped to put his shades on so that he could see to drive across the bumpy ground. There were no roads out here, just wide tracts of flat land, trenches dividing the area every so often. Those like himself who ventured out here knew better than to wander near the trenches - if what they pursued went into the danger zone, it was assumed dead unless they found it again later.

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

This time, he had been lucky. It wasn't often that a sick or injured creature survived alone, and normally the trophies they returned to exchange for payment were gnawed-on or half-eaten, clear signs of predation. Her hide hadn't yet been touched until he got to it, and the body had been warmer than he expected, indicating she had only been there a little while.

He shook his head, to dispel his thoughts; it was no good wondering about what had killed her when there were still dangers around.

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

The loud hissing roar of a Serraptor sounded to his right, and he stepped on the pedal, gaining speed even as he was pursued; he zig-zagged and blared the horn, and the Serraptor changed course, running towards a Cuniflare it had spotted in the grass.

Hunter breathed deeply, and slowed the vehicle down; his hands were shaking, sweat dripping from his brow, but he didn't dare stop until he was out of the hunting grounds, in case another of the predators was around.

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

He signalled as he reached the checkpoint of the compound, and pulled his pass out to wave it at the guards, who signalled for him to remove the neckerchief.

"Sorry, I had forgotten about it - here" he muttered, as he uncovered his face. The guard nodded, an impassive look on his face as he waved the vehicle through the doorway, barrier raising as he did so.

Hunter drove through, and parked in his usual spot, leaning back for a moment with his head supported by the seat.

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

The base - or compound, as they called it - was little more than a grouping of tents around a fire, with a spiky wooden wall erected around it to keep predators out while they rested. The checkpoint barrier was a spiked wooden log attached to a pulley system, which the guard operated from a little wooden hut, and the central tent - which was wear Hunter now headed, with his prize tucked under his arm - was bigger than three of the residential tents combined, and was open on all sides up to shoulder-height, to allow airflow.

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

Hunter unrolled the canvas onto the table, and grimaced as he saw the maggots writhing in the fur. "She must have been very ill - the body was still warm, but for these to have hatched on the way back, they must have been in there for some time."

His contractor shook his head, and sighed. "It's a shame, she had a lovely pattern. Go on, throw it on the heap and get washed up - here's your payment for the delivery."

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

Hunter said his thanks, and took the pouch on the table, noticing with a grin that it was slightly heavier than his previous one. He rolled the hide up, canvas and all, and took it outside to a pile that stood away from both the wall and the tents, which was made up of all kinds of things which were to be disposed of. At the end of the week, the pile would be set alight to dispose of it all.

[ToxxicRenegadeAngel]

He tossed the canvas roll onto the top of the pile, and headed over to his tent, which was set closer to the wall than the others. The other contractors had commented when he set up there, arguing he was too far away from the fire, but he had simply stated he preferred being away from the noise while he slept. The truth was that he had pitched his tent as far away as he could from the barrier, in case anything happened during the night.