Tracking

Feracil lent down, looking to the ground. The subtle changes in which the flora had been rushed through. He was on the right track her knew it. The distance between himself and his quarry was closing. Yet…
“You’re going the wrong way,” the demon within told him.
Feracils scruffy face turned into a snide, irritated smile. His eyebrow even twitched the moment the demon spoke to him.
“I’ve been doing this for years,” The hunter spoke. “I know what I am doing.”
“The tracks led the other way,” Argur insisted.
“A decoy, they’ll be trying to steer us away,” He explained, keeping his loud voice hushed to keep the noise down. He felt the demon hesitate before speaking again.
“You do know you left your crossbow back in the Tavern.”
Feracil frowned, quickly reaching round his back to find the crossbow missing. He cursed. Loudly. Before reaching into the bag at his side, taking out a short, thick piece of wood. The tips a shiny metal; undoubtably silver.
“Going hand-to-hand?” Argur questioned, without waiting for a reply it added “You shouldn’t allow yourself to be so easily distracted.” The demon chastised his human host.
Feracil knew that this time, the demon was right.
A bit of cross posting between here and my art blog as of late.
Both are kinda connected at the moment.
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