Hunted 10/2005

The rain fell gently against the outstretched leaves gathering size but losing speed as they fell to the forest floor. As they passed other leaves they *tic*ed and *tak*ed against them covering most soft noises in a grey mist of sound. When they rested against the forest floor they made soft the dry and thirsty leaves making foot falls, for those who knew how to step rightly, no louder than a falling rain drop.
Perched along a thick limb masked by clumps of leaves lay a figure. Though, unless looking straight at him while you carried a lamp, all you would see would be an oddly lumped limb with one rather straight branch...ending in an odd shaped leaf.
He carried his bow at the ready an arrow nocked another held in the same hand that held the string. His legs ran the length of the limb arched slightly over each side...his thighs squeezing from time to time to adjust his balance...but only slightly...and rarely.
He almost dozed but not quiet. His eyes were closed, since the dark of night hid him from most eyes and the storm clouds stole what little light remained he waited listening. When the time came he would see enough.
He ran through small plans in his head though he made sure to not like one more than any other since plans...like life...often changed in ways one did not expect.
His cloak, tucked against him, helped smooth his form making him less likely to be spotted. Its special fabric helped keep most water out though that had become moot long ago. His light leather armor had become soaked leaving a cold and clammy feeling against his skin when caught in passing breezes. It would be easier to move being softer when wet...but heavier as well. A balance he could live with.
Under his cloak, against his back, his sword lay like a dead thing. Smaller than most blades of its style it was never the less his weapon of choice. Coupled with his knives he felt more than ready.
His heart stopped as did his breathing. He could hear the soft stepping of a small number of horses. Down the leaf covered trail they made little noise save the occasional *hruuf* of dislike for the rain and a small jingle from their tack.
Three horses. As they came closer their hooves could be heard pressing and stepping carefully in the dark and wet. They were about twenty yards away...a long shot with a bow in day light. A little more time would be needed.
He opened his eyes looking in the direction of the sounds. Having been closed for so long his pupils were dilated allowing for more light to enter. This helped but he needed to see more.
He felt his eyes shifting slightly...blending...moving..changing. As they did this his vision changed...more colors bled in with the purples and greys of night. He could also more clearly as his new eyes focused on the riders.
The central rider was flanked by two large men who were obviously guards. They concerned him very little as his target was far more dangerous than any brute force could muster.
His target was dressed in long robes hidden under a cloak. He appeared old but also very fit for his age. Water could be seen glistening on his horse...but the man appeared dry. He seemed to be saying something to his guards...or mumbling to himself the way the old or thoughtful sometimes do. Just then he motioned with his staff towards the man in the trees.
The man in the tree felt the hairs on his neck stand on end as his heart squeezed a lump of adrenalin into his system.

Point of interest...

When a bolt of lightning strikes a tree you happen to be in...
you will not hear it land.