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whos_afraid
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Seven-league boots were an incredible invention, Hunter was fast finding. It took just a bit of time to get accustomed to them, and thus he wound up a few different places before he learned how to get to Camlann. He'd even stopped in Estervale, and between the two kingdoms found another beautiful bolt of cloth for Scheherazade, and earrings to match the necklace he'd brought her before. Everything was carefully stowed away in his pack, wrapped by his own hands. His wrappings were heartfelt but clumsy; the pack was lumpy and somewhat unattractive being nothing much but cloth and hide tied in string and sinew.
He had plans, his usual ones: hunting, skinning, selling to keep money in his pockets. He found himself craving red meat of the variety they did not make in Mehrdadstan. Cattle wasn't food in the desert kingdom, something Hunter was slowly growing used too, but the wolf in him, the one that had been kept at bay longer than he could remember, still craved it. He blamed the lack of the wolf's emergence on Scheherazade's company. He was starting to realize what it was that brought it out in him: anger. Jealousy. If he could handle those emotions, maybe he could control his change.
Maybe. The thought had him distracted as he leaned against stone, chewing thoughtfully on his impromptu meal.
Tags:
puck, hunter
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With the exception of the Blasted Lands, Puck had spent a great deal of travelling all over Pentamerone. He'd met quite a few interesting people - especially that tiny pink sprite named Tink and that strange snow woman - and gotten into his faire share of adventures despite the cloy of the summer months. But summer had given way to autumn and the first whisper of winter was calling, beckoning him back to the Sleeping Woods. Back to Oberon and all the strangeness that troubled him. Puck was fighting the call, the thought of his alst conversation with his king still fresh in his mind and turning his mood sullen more and more often.
However, he'd found himself skirting the border between Camlann and the Sleeping Woods for the last week now, terrorizing travelers with his pranks. In fact, he saw one now, and slipped silently from branch to branch, drawing closer to get a better look at the man.
No, not just a man, he realized. That hunter with the strange curse. Oddly pleased to find a familiar face, Puck dropped from the nearby tree with the grace of a cat. "Good day to you, Hunter."
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