He'll sling his bow over his head after he leaves the eyesight of the Clan Peyton, but for now, the two-pound bow is security in hand. He had handcrafted the bow from a fine piece of yew, finishing up with the runes of the tribe engraved on it—a bonnie bow for killing or show.
This solo hunt was to prove he could survive in the wilderness, and if he brought back a carcass, the more points he'd have in the ranks. No use thinking about it; he did not intend to kill anything - well, not intentionally.
Alaisdair stopped for a bite of his rations. He had made good time - after strapping the spear into the holster he had fashioned, nestled aside his quiver, and looped the bow over his head and under his right arm. The dagger is still accessible, if needed, quickly. These preparations made it easy for him to lope along. If he ran, his gait seemed more steady than it was if he just walked. Either way, the animals knew of his presence, which was okay with him.
In his mind, his mission was to return to his clan intact. He was to spend two weeks in the forest, and he wanted to find as much wildlife as possible, observe, and then draw. He had his 'Rina with him and was anxious to test its notes, perhaps enticing a Siskin or a Crossbill.
He thought seeing a Capercaillie would be nearly impossible, but anything seemed possible in this pine forest. And, of course, there were talks of magic, but he was a skeptic. He'd have to see it with his own eyes to believe.