Hunting

The hunt had already lasted two hours. All five participants had dispersed in different directions through the forest, searching for any game they could find. Gavin wandered alone among the bushes and trees, his gaze lazily scanning the surroundings. During this time, he had come across several snakes, a hare he hadn't managed to shoot, and a squirrel. He was wearing a linen shirt, a green vest, loose trousers held in place by a leather strap—the same strap that held his dagger—and a cloak. His dark hair was blowing in the wind, but, contrary to expectations, it barely bothered him, though it did get in his face.
After taking a few more steps, Gavin suddenly flinched, startled by a bird that flew right under his nose. His dark brows drew together, but he cursed silently and continued on. Soon he reached a tall, old oak tree. Without thinking, he slung his bow over his back and nimbly climbed up to survey the area from above. Bracing his foot against another branch, he leaped up, grabbed a higher one, and settled himself on it. His brown eyes began to scan the ground below for any movement—and suddenly caught on the top of a fair head. Ivo. A sly smile instantly blossomed on Gavin's usually gloomy face. Settling more comfortably on the branch, he drew his bow and arrow. Squinting one eye, he took aim at the tree trunk where the blond man stood and released the arrow. It struck the bark with such a loud crack that the echo carried through the silence of the forest.
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