The Endless Hunt

[Neptune Vasilias]

This story was inspired by a dream I had one night. :)

Please tell me what you think of it and if you're a good interpreter, do tell me what it means.

Chapter 1​

On a bright lovely morning, a ram set off from its hilly home to the lush meadows of fresh grass for its morning meal. It trotted along the rough tracks until it stopped at the borders of the huge fields of delicious greens. It reveled in the aroma of dawn and the heavy humid scents of plants.

Then it started off on its usual daily routine of picking and choosing the best grazing spot. It wandered along the pathways the intersected the meadows, stopping several times to bend down and pluck a mouthful of blades and chewing on them with a thoughtful expression. After an hour or so, it had already decided on the tastiest and mouth-watering patch of grass and could be seen with its neck and head bend down, buried among the shrubbery. Once it felt that the spot was stripped clean of its produce, it moved on to continue assessing the vast meadows until it had its fill. The sun had yet to peak at its zenith, and the soothing glow of sunbeams that plummeted down from the heavens was an airy blanket for the ram. Even though summer was arriving, yet the signs of spring still stood out amazingly.

Meanwhile, far away from the mountain range and the huge meadows, in the depths of the deep dark jungle, it galloped through the forestry, halting once in a while to avoid crashing into low-hanging branches and trees. Often, it would let out a shrilling neigh as it swerved round the sharp bends and paths of the jungle. Its swift but sturdy hooves clattered against the muddy earth, making faint echoes of knocking sounds.

Its body was well-toned with slim slender muscles providing a streamlined torso and its shoulders were broad and tapered down. In its right arm, wield a traditional classic wooden bow. However, that bow was special and different. Crafted from the trunks of that in the heart of the centaurs' sanctuary woods and blessed with the elders' magic and ancestors' approval, the bow has never once allowed its ammunition to miss or go off-target. Strapped securely on the back, the centaur's cache was well-stocked with many arrows to last him for at least a week of hunting. It neared the borders of the jungle, and as it was motivated by the growing specks of sunlight trickling in from the outside, it started breaking brambles and tendrils that got in his way and using his special bow to whack off stubborn branches.

Then, in a spur of moment, he emerged from the boundaries of the thick dense jungle and break into a freely-emotional gallop into what looked like a large beautiful field that seemed to go on into the endless horizon. From afar, the centaur eyed a dark spot of a figure in the middle of the meadows. Cautiously, it moved slowly not to give away itself, and stealthily padded up nearer to the being. Crouching behind a somewhat large bush of red odd-smelling berries, the centaur discovered that it was gazing at a adolescent mountain ram, independent in its high altitude and glory. The animal was focused on the seemingly tasty shoots of grass and apparently, it did not appear to have sensed a foreign presence.

 

[Neptune Vasilias]

Chapter 2​

The centaur quietly gripped its bow and raised it up to just above the outline of the berry bush. As it moved its other hand behind its back to pick out a thin shaft of an arrow, a fly landed on its bow. Slightly annoyed at how something tiny dared to interrupt its hunting, it tried to brush it off. The fly hovered in the air, circling the centaur's head before landing on a different spot on the bow. Glaring at the small insect, it used the arrow as a makeshift swatter and tried to smack it away. The fly flew away from the centaur and the arrow dealt a blow to the bush, causing it tremble violently and a few berries to drop. This sudden movement perked the ram's attention and it warily stared at the centaur. Afraid that its target would escape, the centaur immediately launch the arrow at the ram. Before it could see whether the arrow hit, the ram had already sprinted off once it noticed that it was about to be killed. Growling in disbelief and annoyance, the centaur dashed off in pursuit of its prey.

Cantering as quickly as it could, the mountain ram swerved across the tall feathery grass and tried to think of a place to find from the openness of the meadows. It may be a haven for food, but it was definitely not good for hiding from predators. An arrow whisked past the ram, close enough to hear the crackle of air as the arrow pierce through it. The ram forced its legs to continue moving despite getting slightly exhausted. A volley of arrows came down around him and he panicked, halting suddenly in his tracks. Splinters of broken arrows hailed around him and the ram turned back to see the centaur rushing nearer to him. Immediately, he bolted off and went along the route which led to his mountain residence.

The centaur was getting infuriated by not be able to slain its prey for the first time. Letting out an 'Argh' of frustration, the centaur reached for its quiver and shot again at the ram. The arrow whizzed past the ram, however, it managed to come into contact with its right hind leg and grazed it. A thin line of red formed within seconds and the ram began to stumble a bit in its run. "You may run away, ram. But you won't get away alive for long." Smirking, the centaur neighed before charging up its leg muscles and briskly strode towards the trail taken by the mountain ram.

He felt a strong stab of pain in his right hind leg. Trying as much not to look backwards, the ram kept moving on and stumbled over a craggy rock. He let out a grunt as he hastily fought to keep his balance. Hooves echoed from behind it, and the ram knew that he had to hurry before he might end up being roasted or any way, dead. The ram squinted his eyes as he endured the pain and he veered towards the path to the nearest pass where he would be safe in hiding there for a while. As the terrain beneath his rattling hooves transformed from smooth grass to uneven rock, the ram purposefully moved in a confusing manner in order to try to shake off his pursuer. Whisking past his right horn by a few inches, an arrow embedded itself into the side of a rocky ledge. Turning corners and cantering past jagged bends, the labyrinth of valleys proved to be more than just a pathway and soon, the ram was out of breath. His right leg was burning prickly with oozing red drops of pain and he had to limp. Finding a small crevice that was big enough to fit him, the ram stumbled into the hiding spot and warily sighted the valleys for the centaur.