(IC) The Witchwood
Gar, clearly more comfortable in the wilds, seemed a little less agitated in the woods and more at peace. With his longbow in hand, he took point, occasionally pausing to crouch and inspect the trail, only to stand again and keep walking. He pauses when they come upon the trappers shed, hand his serene look takes one of irritation. “Never understood the need for traps for animals....the thrill of the hunt is a test of skill. Traps are without honour.”
He looked back to the others. “The hunters code us an unspoken rule, but sacred. No hunting females of breeding age, no young. Bucks and older animals....traps do not distinct.”