When the time felt right, he began his pursuit. He tracked the wild beast, eager to feast on its very essence. The creature retreated deeper into the forest meadows. He pondered the idea that it could know he stalked it. Could such a beast know that a man prayed on it now? After several kilometers, the animal had cornered itself in a grotto. Seated on a rock face several meters high, The Hunter prepared to swing his great axe. “Watch for the tail, you don’t want to be poisoned,” he thought to himself. “And sever the head with one clean chop.”
With the battle cry of a true warrior, and a mighty heave, he drew the massive axe over his head and leapt from atop the stone perch which concealed him. He crashed hard into the ground, leaving a crater in his wake. The heavy steel head of the massive weapon he wielded landed mere inches from the animal with an earth-shattering seismic slam that quaked the forest itself. He saw the thing nursed a young wounded girl, who might have fallen from a tree while exploring. It looked to him with cautious eyes and he stared back, passion giving way to compassion. “Well that’s not how the legend describes the manticore… this creature deserves to live.” He set his helm on the handle of the now buried axe and walked away. The child would reappear in her village’s medical house that night and speak in the morning of the beast that had spared her savior.