Firefly Glen I have you strung,

Loneliness was not a state familiar to Cinar, and yet on his long trek from the homeland it had consumed him almost entirely. There was no more servants, no more followers, no more wives, nobody. For how much the hatred in his heart boiled at the thought of his father, he was glad that he had not been spoiled to the extent that he lacked the skills of survival; babasi was of the mindset that a man who could not hunt down a screaming elk or take the eye of an intruder was barely a man at all. Cinar wondered if he knew the kind of man he was now.

Powerful, dominating, ideal.

And yet with such qualities, he had nothing to show for it. Scanning over the glen, he spotted a lone buck, antlered and proud. Cinar was quick to decide that he wanted them; the antlers. Standing stiff for a moment, he soon began his careful stalk of the ungulate before sprinting when he was in closing distance. But to his surprise the buck did not run, instead turning and slamming a hoof to Cinar's right shoulder. He was quick to let out a cry, the buck taking it's leave when his attack did not persist.

He spat a growl at the ground, eyes fixing into a glare. That would hurt for a while, in terms of both his body and his pride.