*****
"Do you see, my son? There is little point in trying to move quietly upon the snow during winter," said a much older Kret to his young son. The rabbit they had been following had been alerted to their prescence when Kret's son shifted from his position, crunching the snow underneath his feet.
"I understand father. But then how do we catch them?" said the little boy, bundled up in Catoblepas leather and fur to protect himself from the cold.
"Traps Itri, traps," responded Kret, with a smile on his face.
"How do I set traps then, father?" questioned Itri, a perplexed look in his eyes.
"Come, I will teach you," smiled his father.
*****
"No, no, no! The bow must be aimed, not held! Use your eyes boy!" yelled a gray haired Kret, his teenaged son holding onto his fathers bow while his sisters giggled from the sidelines. A few tribal girls were watching as well, as the tribe went about their daily life, hunting, trading, and eating during the slightly warm summer months.
Twang! went the bow as Itri launched the bone tipped arrow towards a target a good distance away. Only to have it fall far short. A disgusted snort came from his father, while the girls watching on the sidelines giggled at him.
"Do it again boy, and don't stop until you get it right!" yelled his father.
Itri only offered a grimace, before pulling up the bow once more to aim.
Twang! Twang! Twang! Twang! Twang!
The sun slowly sank in the summer sky, until a small noise broke the long chain of twanging bow string.
Twack!
"I hit it father! I hit it!" screamed Itri, joy deep in his eyes.
"Good, now hit the center this time. And then maybe it'll make a decent archer out of you. Trapping is not enough upon these plains..."
*****
"You have grown, my son. It is a pleasant scence to these aging eyes," remarked Kret, balding and grey haired. His body slumped at the old age of forty five winters (old for them, at least). His son on the other hand was at his prime, eighteen with a child on the way, strong and powerful.
"I have heard talk, that you are quite the hunter these days. Going after catoblepas all by your-self, eh? Yet, that is not why you are here...?" as he trailed off, hoping for an explanation of his son's visit.
"Father, just as you explored to find our great bounty of the catoblepas, I too have explored, and found another remarkable beast. Out on the plains three sunset's ago, tracking a lone catoblepas, I happened to hear a great sound, like a rumble far off in the distance. Only that is was drawing closer to me. I reacted quickly, and moved swiftly to higher ground," began Itri, his voice deep and powerful.
"Where did you hear this sound? To the West?" questioned the elder, his curosity overwhelming.
"To the South, father. As the rumbling grew louder, I looked to the East, and saw a great amount of dust being kicked from the plains ((as its summer, there terrain is plains, but in the winter it is tundra)). The catoblepas do not move so swiftly as to cause something like this, I thought. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw," said Itri, his voice quivering as he recounted his tale, remembering the sight he saw.
"What did you see boy, what did you see?" asked the elder man, his eyes wide, hoping that what his son said would not bode ill for the tribe.
"I saw a great host of great, eight-legged creatures. Their hooves pounded against the Earth, kicking up dust and grass as they moved quickly across the plain, never once stopping their movement. Such glorious beasts. How I wish to ride but one of them, flying like the wind across the plains..." finished Itri, his mind wandering as he imagined it.
"Truly? This bodes well for our people. If we were able to ride those beasts, it would make the migration of our people between Summer and winter easier, and the tracking of the catoblepas would be much easier. Itri, gather up the best of our scouts. I am sending you out to explore the area, to find where these beasts wander, and what landmarks to use while we study them."
Snapped out of his daydreaming by the commands of his father, Itri nodded and left quickly to gather up a group to leave by the week. They would leave with the tears of the tribe following them, unsure of what awaited them, out side the comfort of Kenaz's small section of nomadic land.
A Sleipnir, carved out of stone by a member of the Kenaz tribe