Between the foggy forest, a sound of horses' hooves rang out, disturbing a dead man who was roaming through the forest. It followed the sound and slowly turned its head back, then saw a nail hammer enveloping its vision.
With a bang, the corpse, whose head had been smashed, flew out some distance in that tremendous impact. The knight strangled his horse and blew a whistle. Then, amidst a howl of wolves, several huge beasts strung out of the bushes and ran over with their prey.
"Don't catch the pheasant, Errand, can you understand me or not? I told you to find the deer, the stag! Go smell for urine!" George, somewhat speechless, hung his third pheasant of the day on the side of his horse.
Of these three, only the first one had an arrow stuck in it. The others were caught by the wolf himself.
In addition, there were a few squirrels on the horse... I don't know how that guy got them...
At this time, a few more wolves ran over, they circled around the knight's horse a few times, rubbed their master's boots, then dragged the tail of the two idiots and went into the mist again.
'It's almost noon, but this morning's results are not as good as the previous days.' George shook his head and decided not to wander in the mountains anymore, he blew a whistle, summoned the wolves and went to the vineyard together.
By now it was the sixth day the schoolyard had been open, and every afternoon when he returned, George had caught a wolf. And now he was not only very skilled at this kind of work, but since he already had the help of wolves among others, he did not need to recite the words of judgment, he could smash those beasts to the ground and listen to his 'testimonial'.
If nothing goes wrong, there will be one more wolf by his side on the way back today.
Ever since there were wolves, the hunting was getting smoother and smoother. The harvest of the first few days was not small, mostly the result of hunting in that vineyard. But we hadn't gone there yet today.
Those deer seemed to be particularly fond of those sweet and greasy grapes, and were not at all afraid of scraping their horns in order to eat greedily.
As we moved forward, the vineyard gradually emerged from the mist. The skinny horse seemed to know where the master was going, and came to a place where the master often went, and cooperated with the master to place the hay wagon in the location where George often placed it.
After this, George patted the skinny horse's butt, looking at its soulful eyes, and found himself looking at it more and more pleasant - if not for its dirty hair is too eye-catching...
Sometimes he felt that this little mare, surprisingly a little like Rona.
The horse's leg was originally a bit lame, but this defect was not born. After Aggie had compressed it with herbs for a while, George continued to treat it with sacred hymns for a few days. By now, it was considered completely healed.
And after that, this skinny horse did bring George a lot of surprises.
It can be said that it can have so much harvest, it's credit to occupy a large part - especially the boar hunted some days ago. At that time, when it rushed out from the grapevine, it was thrilling. And those wolves couldn't do much about it.
At the end, however, the boar was chasing George and was wound up by this horse and crashed into a tree! This gave George the opportunity to shoot some poisoned arrows and finally subdue it.
From then on, George concluded one thing - this mare's intelligence is definitely higher than Alexander's!
Perhaps the thief horse thief, Aggie, had some basis for that boast about it at first...
"In a couple of days, I will wash you, this mange of yours, I am also able to cure." George scratched the bridge of its nose and said.
The horse gave a snorting sound, which is considered to give a response.
After getting back on the horse, George led the wolves to wander around the place. However, there was not even a single pheasant on the way, and it was obvious that George had cleaned up this vineyard very thoroughly in the past few days.
But today seemed to be a day that was destined to be fruitful.
A wolf spotted something at the end of the vineyard.
'This sound is not an encounter with the enemy.' George opened the scroll and confirmed it again, then spurred his horse to rush over.
It was a few collapsed vines, but judging from the marks on them, they were not brought down by wild boars arching their roots, but some kind of higher creature that had hardened these vines and brought them down.
George dismounted and observed that the ripe grapes had been eaten away, and many of the leaves had been chewed and bitten off.
A wolf came over and sniffed the puddle of wet marks on the ground, looking a little excited.
''It's a stag!'' George slapped his thigh and rolled onto his horse.
The doe in the valley also came with antlers, and not small. But is not comparable to the stag's. And the doe's antlers are definitely not able to support down so many vines. Only the horns and the strength of the stag are frighteningly strong, can easily do this!
In the past four days, only one stag was caught, the others were all females, and today, I finally hit the jackpot again!
In fact, the castle's crossbows have now reached eight, but some of them are barely made from those specimens in the castle, and those made from female antlers will be of inferior quality. Far from being able to compare with the horns of the stag.
But if the stag is also captured, its antlers will be replaced, the power of the eight crossbows, then should be similar.
There is no use to have more crossbows, after all, this crossbow requires at least two people to operate, and he only has a total of sixteen soldiers. Counting himself, there are only 17 people in the territory who can operate that thing.
"Go and find it! Extra meal for you tonight!"
The wolves seemed to have heard his words and began to pursue the scent. It seemed that they were already lightly familiar with this kind of work.
The wolves were moving fast through the mist, yet silently. George steered his horse behind him, relying on the scroll, following the tracks of the hunters.
After half an hour, George suddenly found that the wolves on the scrolls were hiding in the woods and not moving. Based on the cooperation these days, he knew. These clever hunters were already lurking around that prey at this time.
So he picked up an antler bow on his horse's back and slowed down his hoof.
With the advance, the distant fog gradually in front of his eyes, and a hundred paces away, a shoulder higher than the horse's head, horns almost higher than a small tree stag, faintly appeared in the fog.
It is now sideways to George, eating wild fruits in the bushes. Occasionally it will also raise its head from time to time, while alert chewing, while the eyes vigilantly look around.
However the fog is hazy, in this forest, it can only rely on its sense of hearing to do so.
'No wonder these guys are afraid to move, it turns out to be a big guy!' Looking at its horns, which were far thicker than the doe by several times, George couldn't help but have his eyes shine: 'It's better to shoot the neck.'
This thing, not to mention the bow, even the crossbow can not be killed in one blow.
Unless the arrow is poisoned.
Thinking of this, he slowly pulled out an arrow feather from the quiver, and at the place where the arrow was, it was light green. Then he concentrated on drawing the bow.
This bow of his was far from those ordinary hunting bows can compare. But it was mostly 140 pounds of pulling power! Shooting those ordinary lock armor, it was able to pass through in one go!
If equipped with those new arrows, even the willow nail armor without leather lining, also able to shoot through!
But pulling up is also laborious.
Although he had a good physique, it was difficult to play a heavy weight bow without some years of professional training.
That's why George's body was shaking like a noodle when he was pulling it out now.
--This is how you want to hit?
With a whoosh, the arrow left a trail in the mist, too fast for the eye to catch -- but it really was shot askew.
But just as the arrow's trajectory was destined to pass by the stag, the arrow deflected by a few inches and coincidentally hit the deer's shoulder!