The waiting was the hardest part.
Erling had known that since he was old enough to hold a bow, but knowing didn't make the experience any easier to endure. It had taken him years to cultivate the kind of patience it took to remain still while you waited for your quarry to make a move.
Now, while Erling's breathing was smooth and steady, as if the pressure of the moment couldn't touch him, both Tulori and Serge stood high in their stirrups, craning their necks and searching for the first sign of the imperial elk. Their horses shifted nervously under them, their hooves clopping on the ground until Lord Reynold shot the young men a fierce glare and motioned for them to settle down.
"If you can't wait," Reynold hissed at the young pair. "Go ride out in front. Once you're hanging from the elk's antlers, it'll be much easier to corner, and we can go back to the lodge early."
