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Chapter 15: The Master is with you, O valiant warrior

In the shadowy depths of the Westerian Woods, Dannice Malney, a once proud guardsman from Cardamon, was now a hardened hunter.

His muscular frame, honed by mere survival, blended seamlessly among the twisted towering cedars. The scars on his soul ran deep. His senses had sharpened with experience, making him deadly. Every step he took was calculated and purposeful. He was wary as he lurked through the mud and leaves. Amidst the ever-pressing movement of life in the forest, there was a stillness in his heart, a reflection of all he had seen and lost. He couldn't help but feel cynical at times, jaded by the harsh reality that he had lost his home, that he had been betrayed by those he trusted and a ruler he should have been able to respect. Through it all, he remained resilient and methodical, determined to survive whatever challenges came his way.

He stood still, a hardened hunter, eyes focused on a re'em grazing nearby, its form casting a long shadow. He breathed deep, tasting the air and catching the scent of damp foliage. A soft wind rustled through tufts of hair sticking out from his copper helmet as he tightened his grip around the shaft of his pike. As if sensing someone's gaze on its back, the re'em lifted its massive head from grazing, nostrils flaring as it sniffed at something unfamiliar.

Dannice sprang into action, charging forward and kicking up tufts of soil behind him. The animal reacted instinctively to the intrusion, turning sharply towards him with an echoing, enraged bellow. He didn't falter; instead, skidding to a halt outside of the beast's reach, he threw the pike with all his might. It sailed, spinning end over end until it struck true - piercing deep into the re'em's gullet. A deafening roar erupted from within its throat as blood gushed like a river. It fell and thrashed, trying to dislodge the weapon but it was too deep. Dannice knew better than to celebrate prematurely; wounded beasts were at their most dangerous. He instinctively took a defensive stance as the animal staggered back to its haunches and lunged at him in a final desperate charge. Its bloodshot eyes were filled with rage and pain. Dannice braced himself for the incoming attack. As the animal charged towards him, he grabbed onto its head. The force of its collision pushed him back but only for a moment. Dannice held tight to the creature's scruff.

With a mighty jerk, he wrenched at its neck, killing it instantly. The re'em collapsed onto the ground. Retracting his spear, Dannice's expression was one of quiet contemplation as he stood over the defeated beast in stoic victory. His heart was heavy with the burden of life taken but also swollen with the pride of the hunt.

He began to butcher the re'em for food. As he toiled, the specter of Cardamon castle threatened to invade his thoughts, yet he deftly dismissed them with an air of cultivated nonchalance. Dannice Malney had been moulded by wilderness, his features rough-hewn, his wits as sharp as a sword, and his self-reliance as unyielding as stone. His exterior had hardened like a tree, yet beneath the facade stirred a yearning for something beyond basic survival. It was an indescribable pull. Where it was beckoning him, he wasn't sure. Behind focused eyes, his methodical mind separated every part of the animal with painstaking care. For him, it had become an art. Using whatever resources available to him in ingenious ways. Though

solitude was his sanctuary, he found himself wandering about the elusive pull that beckoned him.

Dannice became nature, melding into the forest around him. As he sparked a small fire to cook his food, Dannice's keen senses stirred. A presence was closing in.

His eyes narrowed as he discreetly extinguished his fire, the embers dying with a faint hiss. The scent of burning wood hung heavily. With careful movements, he avoided raising suspicion from potential trackers. He jumped behind a bush, peering over the green, and caught a glimpse of banners flying high. The queen's elite guardsmen of Cardamon recognizable by their striking uniforms of royal purple and cobalt blues stepped into view, the sound of their boots grinding against the forest floor.