The sun had begun to rise over the forest, the sunlight filtered through the brown leaves in the trees, giving the whole area a amber hue. Besides a lone native hunter, no one but the animals stirred this early. The deer had awoken and made their way to the river to get a morning drink before grazing, foxes chased unlucky rabbits who happened to be caught outside their burrows. The game in the valley was rarely a cause for danger, though bears and cougars were spotted on rare occasion, the latter sometimes prone to attacking unprovoked. Patrols of the crown were seen more often as of late, but they were of no cause for concern for the Iroquois after the French and Indian war. The only colonial traffic to the native villagers were from envoys from the colonies and merchants, trading furs for supplies and muskets.
Inolakenda awoke in a tree, having made his way up the night before to have a good spot for picking game without making noise searching. He stood up to pick up his poncho, having used it as a pillow. He brushed off the bark and put it on. He grabbed his bow and quiver, both were hanging over night on a tree branch. After gathering his belongings, Inolakenda moved up and sat down on a bulky horizontal branch. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, opening them to see the world in a vastly different way than just a few moments before. Everything was a field of black, life forms filling the voids as silhouettes of white.
After a few minutes of scanning, Inolakenda found the buck he was to take for the day. He closed his eyes once more, reopening them to see the world once more with the full color and general geometry as everyone else does. He did not draw his bow just yet, from this angle he would only get a shot at the creature's back. He grumbled a bit, then made his way down the tree, foothold by foothold, moving slow as to avoid making too much noise. On the ground, Inolakenda made a wide path to the creature's right, stopping once he attained a full view of the creature's right. He began to approach the creature, moving as slow as he could possibly manage, stopping behind every tree to figure his general distance, closing the range and stopping. With a deep breath, he drew his bow and a single arrow, knocking it to the string and drawing back. He lined it up to hit the deer right in the heart, and with an exhale, the arrow let fly.
With a smile, Inolakenda slung the bow on his back, walking up to the animal and crouching. he picked the buck up by his haunches and picked it up, beginning the trek back to his village with the game carried on his shoulders. He listened to the birds on his way back, glad to have his responsibilities for the day already fulfilled.