After chasing the wolf through the forests and fields with no luck of catching it, Vaalea stomped back in to the forest and started a vigorous search for a certain kind of wood. She needed a tree of certain age, of certain strength and of certain flexibility and it had to be fallen a certain time ago. She did not eat nor rest, before she finally found one. A tree trunk, fitting for a perfect bow. She had done a few bows back in her youth with Aika, the bow maker of her tribe, and she remembered the instructions well. It took her rest of the day to finish the bow and by the time she had a brand new weapon in her hand, the forest had started to grow dark again.
She fished a spare string from her pocket and strung the bow. It was then when she heard a faint sound of soft feet on the leaves. She turned her keen eyes toward the sound but saw nothing of interest. Until an enormous black wolf emerged from the shadows, walking calmly toward her through the dark forest with a weary look in it's mean eyes. The dark silhouettes of the trees seemed to close in on her as well, while the wolf crept closer. She quickly picked an arrow and drew her new bow, aiming at the beast’s head, ”No! You are not taking this bow! Go away or I will shoot you!” The wolf kept drawing closer and eventually she frowned angrily, releasing the string. The arrow pierced the air and dug into the soil. The wolf was not there.
She looked around quickly trying to spot it again, but there were no signs of it. Until out of nowhere it leaped against her, knocking her on the ground. She rolled to the side quickly and pushed herself up on her feet. In a blink of an eye she was running with the bow in her hand. Despite the weight of having not slept nor eaten, she ran like a wind. The wolf darted after her and soon enough it was able to catch her, it’s jaws closing around her calf from behind. She fell on her belly, but quickly rolled on her back, her hand snapping toward the hilt of her knife. The wolf was quicker, it leaped over her with a vicious snarl, digging it’s teeth into her throat. It could’ve easily ripped her throat open, but instead it just held her there, it’s fangs stinging through her skin like nails. She made a small move and the wolf tightened it’s grip around her throat, letting out an aggressive snarl against her skin. She pursed her lips together, looking up at the stars that had filled the dark sky. ”Fine. Kill me then. I am nothing if I can not hunt and if you say I can not hunt… ” Her voice rose into a shout, ”..Then kill me!”. But the wolf released her and bolted toward her bow, escaping with it into the shadows. She pushed herself up to sit and the trickles of bright blood that dripped through the bite marks decorated her throat like a crimson necklace. Her hand sought a rock and she threw it after the wolf cursing with a shout, ”Fine! Take it! I can always make another one!”, She paused to catch her breath, before yelling again, "I hate you!"
After a moment of haunting dark silence, her stomach growled in a vicious fashion. She climbed on her feet and decided to head toward one of the local taverns. She needed a mugful of milk and a bowl of stew. She strode through the forest with a pace of an irritated woman, her normally keen eyes now blinded by anger and clouded by hunger. While walking downhill, she tripped over a loose root, rolling down the rest of the hill with a tumble, gathering all sorts of twigs and dirt in her hair and on her clothing. After the rolling, she lied still on the ground for a while, her eyes blazing with blue flames and twitching in anger. There was no end to her humiliation it seemed. She was fairly certain it was the Great Siimes himself who had planted that root there. She grumbled and swore in her mother tongue while climbing on her feet once more before continuing the walk toward the Prancing Pony with a large amount of twigs sticking out of her blond hair and her neck smeared with fresh blood. She looked as wild as she was.
