Someone To Blame: Part 2

         Wyte sniffed the air, his nostrils flaring out. Dressed plainly and practically, Wyte wore a deep red tunic made of rough material. The garment clung tightly to his frame to avoid snagging while running through the underbrush. Simple light brown pants, made from the same material as his tunic, were held in place by a leather belt fastened with a cast-iron buckle. Most ominously was the long unadorned scabbard that hung from his left hip, holding a hand-and-a-half long steel hilt wrapped in thin metalic gray wire. The most stirking feature was a blood-red ovular stone polished to a slick shine in its pommel. They must have elected him the new Elder, Tywin thought.

         There were no signs of anyone, except for the slightly bent weeds in front of Wyte. But he knew Tywin's proclivities well; being close friends for years, Wyte had a thorough understanding of his prey's mind. There was no doubt that Tywin would have stopped here.

         Wyte sauntered to a nearby oak sappling, kneeling down to the brittle mud colored leaves that turned to dust in his rough touch. Starved of water by the weeds overtaking the ground nearby, Wyte felt sympathy for the dying plant. "Poor, poor tree." Wyte said to no one in particular. "Its always a shame to see a mighty oak killed before it can reach the sky." He quickly stood up and took a long pause before returning back to the small hunting party.

         Wyte's pale brown eyes gazed unwavering at the trail left behind by his prey. He gave a quick scan of the trees surrounding the small clearing, his gaze settling on Tywin's perch. Tywin's heart began to pound, sure that Wyte had spotted him. His muscles began to tense, sweat started to dot his forehead, and his breath became ragged at the thought of the gruesome punishment that Wyte would surely condemn him to. Every impulse in his body screamed at him to run.

          "He's nearby boys" Wyte cried out to his party drawing his sword whose blade was the same grey-black as the wire which lined the hilt. "We will find the bastard traitor and hang him from our gallows! He will pay for what he did!" Wyte turned around to face the restless hunting party. "Who will continue with me?!?" Wyte screamed, the veins bulging from his neck strained with the hatred flowing freely in his soul. A loud war cry resounded in response to the challenge and the large party ran off towards the forest, passing directly underneath Tywin's hiding spot.

         Making sure that they were gone, Tywin carefully descended from his secluded perch to the ground. His heart was pounding his chest. He expected Wyte to come after him for what had happened. I thought he would at least give time to honor the dead. But after what happened I guess I shouldn't be surprised he's out for revenge so soon. The memory of the night it all changed came rushing back to him.