Eoin lay upon the carcass of the kill breathing heavily, his heart thumping and blood racing. He has not felt such exhilaration in weeks. Head swimming from the hunt, Eoin rolled to a sitting position in front of the deer and stared into the beasts now vacant eyes. With hand upon the dead hind's head he said a silent prayer to his gods, thanking them for this bounty. Rising to his feet Eoin reached down, grabbed the deer by its rear legs and hoisted it across his broad shoulders.
The walk back to his camp was not long, but the moon cast little light through the trees cover, making the trip difficult. As he emerged from the thick forest and onto the wide bank of the river he could see his legs were bleeding from the scratches and gouges of the sharp underbrush. The pain from the small wounds was minimal but constant enough to be annoying. He made his way to the simple camp and tossed the heavy deer into the lush grass beside his smoldering fire.
Drawing the ancestral blade from his belt he used the wrappings that kept it safe to cleanse the creature's blood from it. Once cleaned he held the knife before the shimmering moons and called out the names of the blade's lineage, kissing the hilt softly after each ancestor was announced and their deeds recalled. The ritual complete, Eoin placed the knife back in its protective covering, carefully tied the sinew, placed the package back into his bag, and sat beside the fire. He took a stick and churned the dying coals exposing the red embers below the covering of ash. His stretched across his pack and grabbed a few small branches and a log and tossed them into the fire, returning it to life. Eoin retrieved his everyday knife from his pack, crawled over to the deer and slowly began to cut it apart.
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