Vicarious

The prey was mine that day, or rather I, as the prey, was made that day.  I ventured forward to establish dominance in the hunt, but the beast didn't move a single eye, or what I had imagined to be eyes on my preconceived notions of a head.  Without warning, it burst upward....She burst upward?  A well placed spear fell the Cervidae and I was left in a daze.  Did I see hair flowing from the helm?  Reality brought itself to my attention as I realized I was standing in the brush, gazing vacantly at an armored hunter who had just procured my dinner.  

Weaver

"Sir, if I may; Why do you tell these tales? I mean, I understand certain aspects, like illustrating to the men the meaning of battle, companionship, the story of man an all that rot, but what do you get out of it. I don't mean to be blunt, but.....I guess I feel like some of these stories pain you to tell." To him, my response was an eternity away, words that would finally release him from his burdensome curiosity. I'm glad to lead men like him, those that are aware of substance beyond the shallow skin of reality. " Is pain not a commonality of our profession? I don't mean being a soldier, or a Hero, I mean being of persona; the act of being a person. Stories to me are the ties that bind: they operate as an avenue, a connection to the moments in my life I want to know, as well as the ones I don't. They give me the opportunity to provide wisdom, be it in those decisions I made rightfully or ones that fall otherwise, either course they gain recognition and I cannot hide from the fact they exist no matter how much I want to hide from them. Knowing you know my story is enough for me to face the errors of my past rather than hide. You remember Phaea don't you? He was a very real man and a very real illustration of what I never want to be. I'd rather be a man faulted for his honesty, but lauded for his allegiance to his comrades rather than one who abandons the moment matters get difficult. When times are in their harshest state, would you rather be allegiant to those who were with you in difficult times or those who only know the joys of your company rather than the sorrows?

As surely as I've found my footing, illness has crept her withered hands into me, and I will be interred for the time being. Apy polly wogies.

She bore the armor of the Insecta, a tribe that modeled itself on what is normally considering the smallest of creation. The plates fit together seemingly perfectly, allowing movement and protection. I came across her the night prior, hunting in a wooded area just off our course. At first I had mistook her for a large animal, nestled into the ground, slumbering to the sounds of nature. The thought did occur to me to hunt it, but I restrained myself when I realized what adorned it was armor. Piercing it would be more pain than necessity. The movements were subtle at first, and since the beast was foreign, at least to me, I wouldn't have known the difference between that of the creature as opposed to that of imitation. When I found the creature's eyes with my own, there was a realization; we were hunting the same prey. i wasn't about to forsake the large Cervidae, the beast was capable of feeding a scouting troop if the hunter wrests properly, and today I was that hunter. In retrospect, the hunter and the hunted held many meanings that epoch of kismet.

The One

Following orders can mean many things to many people. To some, it is a stringent stance, textbook in hand and the vocals of a superior resonating in the dome. To others it is a varied mistress who situates herself in the realm of circumstance. Trust me when I speak; no textbook will prepare for battle. None. And that means any battle at that, be it matters of love or matters of war. Preparation is only the art of fine tuning the senses to what will inevitably happen. A binding with never prepare you for the true nuances in life, this I attest with my life.