niveous
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Hunter did his best to keep his footsteps quiet. It was difficult though. The snow crunched under his weight no matter what he did. All he could do was move slowly and hope any prey nearby was not paying attention. It was not likely, but he had gotten lucky before.
He paused near a small group of trees. Trees that managed to cling to life, despite the cold and snow and poor light. He could not help but look up at the Eternal Cloud. He still dimly remembered a time when the sky was still blue, and the sun still warmed the land. But that was years ago. Far too many years. Right now, all he needed to worry about was that trees meant food, and food meant prey.
He knelt down, using the white of his thick clothes to blend in with the white landscape. He took out his bow and set an arrow to the string. They were precious things, given how hard wood was to find these days, so whatever he saw, he would need to make the shot count.
His patience was rewarded when a rabbit as white as the snow poked its head out from under some hidden cover. It stood on its hind legs and sniffed the air. Hunter had been careful about his position though, and was not detected. His mind found a memory, tucked away. He had once wanted a rabbit. Not to eat, but to care for like a family member. Pets they used to call them. His mother had rejected the request. In the past, Hunter had screamed and cried over the decision. Now he knew better, and praised his late mother for her choice.
But, for now, a rabbit only meant one thing. A little bit of food. Not much, but enough to see a few people through the day. Hopefully he would find something else. Something more substantial to go with it.
He drew his bow back slowly, taking steady breaths and lining up his shot. The rabbit went to the nearest tree and sniffed around, looking for any loose needles to eat. It obviously found some, as it began to grow increasingly interested in one particular spot. It still looked up occasionally, still wary of predators. But not wary enough.
Hunter’s arrow took it quickly and cleanly. He wondered if it even knew it had been hit by anything. And, best of all, the arrow survived. He would be able to reclaim and reuse it. That was a rare bit of fortune. He stood and jogged over to his kill, collecting it, pulling the projectile out and tucking it away.
With his small bounty slung over his shoulder, he continued on. One rabbit would barely feed his family, let alone the rest of his tribe. No, he still had to live up to his name and find something else to bring back.
Life might have changed since the days of blue sky and warm sun, but it was still life. And he had to do what little he could to make sure it kept going.
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Hopefully the climate doesn't become too far gone that this kind of thing happens, but with the way things are going these days, it's looking more and more like a sure thing. Is it bad that I hope I'm one of the first to go so that I don't have to live in a post apocalyptic wasteland?
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