The Wild Spirit, full of hunger and feral rage.
The Huntress, demented and broken.
The Haunter, watching from the dark.
The Khaos, never truly bound by any master.
The Predator, always seeking a greater prize.
The Puppet Master, ever present.
The P...
An arrow sliced through the air, plunging into the bear's side. It let out a furious bellow of anger and pain—one that would soon be silenced by the poison now coursing through its veins. At the moment, though, it felt nothing but fury, aimed at the one who had wounded it.
The beast fixed its baleful eyes on the archer in the distance, roaring again as it began an all-out sprint in her direction.
The archer nocked an arrow against her bowstring again, pulling back with impeccable calm.
"Erm... watch your flank, m'dear," her companion said meekly, pointing a feathered hand to the left.
"I see it," the archer growled, not looking in that direction. She released the second arrow, nailing the bear in the eye and causing it to veer off-course with yet another roar of agony. Then she spun to the left, nocking her bow in the same motion, and fired while dropping onto her side.
The arrow streaked over the ground and plunged into the skull of the rabid wolf that had been bull-rushing her, killing it instantly.
"Oh! Bear's back!" her companion cried, pointing frantically at the returning bruin.
The archer rolled on the ground, putting her bow on her back as she did so, and pulled a spear from out of nothing, thrusting it forward.
The bear came to a jerking halt as the spear went straight through its mouth and into its body, rendering it lifeless in an instant. A spray of blood exploded from it, showering the huntress, who didn't even flinch as she was soaked in the viscous red liquid.
"Ah! Masterful!" her companion chortled, applauding as the huntress tore her spear out of the bear and straightened up. "Another excellent performance, Art."
"Get down," the huntress snapped, whirling around as her companion did the same. She sprang forward, knocking her companion over and landing on top of him as she thrust her spear at the Nemean lion behind him.
It shot through the lion's chest as it was in mid-leap, its momentum coming to a stop as it wriggled around like a fish, its feeble yowls dying away along with its life.
"...Er... thank you, Art," the huntress's companion remarked, his words muffled by the ground.
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The huntress grunted and dismounted from on top of her companion, pulling him to his feet. "Are you alright, brother?" she inquired.
"Quite." The huntress's companion—her half-brother, Hephaestus—cleared his throat and looked around. "Alright, then; it's over! You've lost!" he called. "Come on out, you brute!"
There was silence for a moment. A light breeze swept through the forest, rustling the leaves of the trees.
The huntress—Artemis, the goddess of the hunt—closed her eyes and sniffed the air. She slowly reached back and re-equipped her bow, pulling back an arrow against the string and aiming it into the darkness of the woods up ahead. "There," she muttered.
