Maximillian Trujillu / M / 28 / Hunter / Mentions: Bo,

Max had spent the night in the cave, not the worst, but the flat surface against his slightly curved back had made him sore. The marks on his face had scabbed and welled up. He tried his best to clean it with alcohol, and it worked. Although the scabs were quite ugly for one to see. Luckily, if he were to take some medicine and care for them daily, they should have skin well over it, just another marking added to his rugged features. Max stretched out, he had completely forgotten about the scar on his arm from yesterday.

-

It seemed to heal pretty well, not needing a deep clean as it was a thin cut. His palms had nail marks on them from when he clenched them so tightly whilst fighting that shifter. Luckily, his head didn’t seem to pound every time his heart would beat. He sat up, analyzing the sword in his palms. He'd drop it off at the blacksmith, then head over to the stables to retrieve Yak. He got to his feet, stretching his legs before walking out of the cave. It smelt bad. The shifter he had killed was still nearby, his corpse was exposed. He glanced over to the pale limp body beside a tree, blood covering most of his skin. Max huffed. He didn’t like the sight of dead people, but knowing that he had killed a shifter had struck further pride in him. Slowly, he was avenging his family. He strolled towards the village, kicking past thick shrubs and thorny bushes. He managed to stop by a lake on his way-just in the borders of the town.

-

He quickly took his fur coat off and cleaned himself of the blood that covered his body, along with the few specks of the crimson liquid on his coat. The water was freezing, yet refreshing. It seemed like a good place that shifters would be attracted to. Max looked around. He had rope-he had wire… He could build a makeshift trap. He went to the nearest tree, placing the net-like rope on the floor, then a tripwire ahead of it. He hooked it above a high tree branch, he had made the trap before. If one were to step past the wire, they’d trip onto the net and trigger it to spring up. It’d be enclosed at the top, the rope thick enough to survive daggers or swords chopping away at it. It was perfect for shifter hunting. Not he just needed bait as he pushed debris over it to hide its presence. “Bait…” He looked down in his pouch, then flicked a couple of silver coins in the middle. It was terrible bait-but it could work. He left the trap, heading towards the blacksmith in the village.

( Kinda sandwiched this post together because I thought Laark's post would fit-but it didn't >_> EDIT: Fixed it ^^ )

Hm. This might be a bit too long but we'll see if it cuts out c;

Laark Umbra / F / 19 / Hunter / Mentions: The shifters, hEr DaGgER

The morning songbirds chirped and fluttered around the forest. The sounds of the strong winds had woken Laark up. Laark rose to a sitting position. Her hair was ruffled, yet not messy. She filtered her hand through her hair, smoothening it out before looking up to the trees. Chickadees were fluttering around, fluffing up and grooming each other. There was a small flock of them, watching Laark. As if they knew her name fit a bird. She watched them solemnly. Perhaps one day she could be in a flock that cared for her like that. She quickly pulled herself from daydreaming and got to her feet. Checking all the vials were safe at her side, along with a good amount of weapons attached to her, she fluttered her cloak off of herself.

Laark had placed her bags under the cloak to replicate her body. She made sure to be completely hidden in the trees, trying to attract a thief or shifter. Perched in a tree branch, along with the Chickadees, they didn’t seem to care. They all looked at her as she calmly sat upon the branch, letting them inch closer. Slowly, she held out her slim hand. One of the bold chickadees hopped upon the surface, fluffing up as her body heat assured its happiness. Laark couldn’t help but smile as she drew her hand along with the bird to her chest. Oddly, birds seemed to enjoy Laark’s company. Maybe because she acted like one. Perched in a tree, calm, enjoying nature at its finest, yearning for company. The other chickadees hopped along her legs. Before she knew it the entire flock was nearly on top of her. She had been sitting there for hours and grew fond of them. “You are…” She looked into the chickadee’s eyes as it’s big brown orbs locked onto her. “You’re Bean, that’s Twig,” She looked to the chickadees.

The sudden thought dropped back into Laark, and she sighed. She didn’t want to leave the birds company, it was the only company she had in a while, except for the small fight she had with the shifters.

“I guess I’ll go get the dagger…”

Laark placed the chickadee back down, sitting up as she descended down the tree with grace. She fluffed the cloak over her, not yet putting the hoody on. She remembered the man from yesterday, along with his friends. She knew what he looked like… She could rat him out. Even after she slept over it, she couldn’t decide whether to do her job… Or follow along with her instinct to not kill. She sighed as she collected her bags, kicking debris over the fire and headed back south where she left her dagger. It took her longer than she thought, after all, she did run from it last time. She had to lean against a tree for support. It was worse than she thought. She unpeeled the bandage and winced in pain as she did so. It was planted right under her collar bone, it reeked of infection. The pink had turned red, the scab had started to form into a layer of thin skin, possibly a scar, but it still wouldn’t be enough. She had to clean it, but now she was too late. Despite her efforts, she had to get medicine to avoid death.

Laark bit her lower lip at the thought of dying by her own fault to save a couple of shifters. Pathetic. She made her way to the scene, automatically, she knew something happened. Debris was scattered around, it was hard to tell there was a new fight, but she could tell by her observation skills that someone battled it out. She turned around to face the tree she was in last time she went here. There were new arrow marks. Two of them. One seemed to grace the branch, along with the hints of small crimson liquid splattered on the branch. She gulped, stepping a couple of paces back before tripping on a small crevice. She fell onto her back; her foot was stuck in the crevice as she fell. A needle-like pain shot from her ankle as she bit back a scream. She could see her ankle twisted in the crevice, besides that the dagger was hidden even deeper in there. She took off her boots to reveal a thin layer of socks. She managed to get her foot from the crevice. She took off her gloves too, pulling at the leather boot as it flung from the crevice and into her hands. There was a rip in it.

Great. Yet another rip I’ll have to mend.

Laark was growing clumsier by the moment. Pain throbbed in her chest and ankle, she should’ve cleaned the wound out when she had the chance-otherwise it wouldn’t have led to this. In fact, she should’ve run from battle before having to go through all of this. Frustration pricked at her mind and she couldn’t help but let a whimper out. It hurts… She unhooked her cloak and placed it beside her, wrapping it tightly around her ankle in attempts as to not move it around. Her tight leather was shielded in small patches of armor. On her back, the small triangular back piece had a dent of three claw marks from the owl that had ripped her cloak. The armor was lightweight, only gauntlets, a small chest piece, shins, and a back piece covered parts of her, yet if one aimed well enough, they could definitely hit her leather clothing. She pushed the hair from her face. Her heterochromatic eyes shone with irritation as the morning sun reflected off her armor.

I need that dagger. How do I get the fu-

She looked down at her waist. Her entire body was riddled in smaller daggers, swords, jagged daggers, and many other hidden weapons. Her boots had small loops that also held weapons. She grabbed onto a smaller, thinner dagger and stuck it into the crevice. Then used a stick to try and ease out the dagger. This was her most expensive one. Custom made. She needed it. After she got the dagger she’d have to get new bandages from the village. She had run out throughout the night. Finally, she was able to ease the dagger out high enough for her to grip onto the blade, she did so with caution, not spilling any of her blood. She knew the poison was still on it. Finally, she gripped onto the handle. It was so relieving for its texture to be in her slim fingers. She flopped onto her back, placing a hand onto her chest she peeked at her wound once more. All she could do was cringe in disgust as she placed the bandage back on. The shifters wouldn’t be back here; they’d be too afraid to come back. Right?

( Okay- 1184 words is too much, I'll try to shorten it if it cuts out XD)