Not A Butterfly

The cold wind blows, the snow falls and the season changes

The hunters are like wolves. They waited patiently and when the opportune moment come, they would strike. 

The hunters look at the vast plains in front of them and each breath created a crystalline misty fog in the air.

Belarion lead these men with a smile like the cold did not affect him. 

He ventured forth and behind him is archers and trackers, seeking prey 

Some of them follows so that they could have something to sustain them on the long winter nights

Some follows because they were ordered to .

Whatever the case, they are confident that they would have something to eat tonight

Belarion rides his horse and saw a Tayak. 

He took his bow, nock his arrow and with one swift motion, release it and like a god in the sky hurling thunders bolts the arrows pierces through the Tayak body like it is the most fragile thing in the world