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Slipping silently between the huge trees that outlines a misty grove, a force of one slowly makes his way to his prey. The hunter drops to his knees and takes a handful of the rich earth and crumbles it between his hands and breathes in the dark rich earth that was walked by his ancestors. He closes his eyes and prays to Tunare that todays hunt will be fruitful. As the hunter stands, he reaches his hands toward the heavens in respect to his God. He channels all his energies as he reaches into his quiver and takes an arrow and places it upon the rest of his bow. Qzet looks over the horizon and spys his prey in the distance and steps from behind the trees and raises his weapon and draws the bow, and under his breath he whispers "For the Grace of Tunare" as he lets the arrow fly...........