The adrenaline rush numbed the pain caused by the biting winds; it was a small price to pay for his cause. His heightened senses picked up a scent. Following his intuition, he crept stealthily. Stayed close to the wall to avoid the downwind he reminded himself. Unlike his hunter predecessor, he wasn't even the least worried about animals picking up his scent; instead shivering hands would not serve him well in his hunt.
His familiarity of the area proved to be indispensable. Visibility was low as clouds in the sky dispersed the faint moonlight. Under low light exposure his eyes failed him. Muscle memory kicked into play. He moved on without breaking a stride; arriving at the hunting ground without any misadventures.
The harsh winds proved to be debilitating. In an hour, his hands were trembling uncontrollably. He mentally noted the number of wasted shots and let out a sigh. Resigned, he ended his hunt. Back in the Nest, he shredded his clothes and went assessed his kills. Disappointingly, this was the only decent shot he got for the night..
The unyielding cold had proved to be a formidable foe. Next time, I'll put on warmer clothes.
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