Snippet #2386062

Jax looked up at the sun, taking a deep breath and feeling the warmth on his face. It was a new day, and he had already killed a mountain goat. He had been roaming around the base of the Mountains for a few days, staying that long only because the hunting was so great. Stone stood beside him, as he gutted the unfortunate animal, but for one to live, another must die. The rule that he had lived by his entire life. Some looked at him, his grungy, and occasionally bloody appearance and knew him for what he was. People avoided him as he walked by or through villages, if they did happen to cross his path, a stare down would usually do away with them. If glaring didn't work, Stone snapping at them or unsheathing a knife he kept on his belt did the trick. Only when he tracked down a Warg and killed them did anyone really show their appreciation. Most people hated them as much as he did. If they didn't they were afraid.

Wargs were dangerous, unpredictable creatures. They were killers, just like him, but every time he found one they decided to mount their high horse and go on and on about how it was a gift. He sneered to himself. 'A gift my ass' he murmured out loud and Stone barked in agreement. It was an abomination. A threat. Something that needed to be destroyed or they might use their gift to murder innocents, a feat he had seen done before, and it was the exact reason that he hunted them now.

He had caught wind of a place where they said Wargs could not be killed. So he set his path west and made it his personal mission to prove whomever that was wrong.