"Nice," Kael muttered as he approached the boar, tied both its hind legs together, and hurled it behind his back.
The corpse swung up like it weighed nothing, yet it wasn't weightlessness; it was control. The rope bit into the boar's legs, then settled across Kael's shoulder. The smell hit him immediately: warm meat, wet earth, and that faint animal musk that clung to everything it had ever touched.
He looked down the path where the boar was headed. The river was there, but the boar might get stolen if he started his routine.
The mountain wasn't empty. It only pretended to be. If there were tracks, there were other mouths. And Kael didn't feel like donating tonight's dinner to some unseen scavenger because he got distracted training underwater like an idiot.
