Yadriel prided himself on his expertise in the woods, in all the years he’d spent foraging on his own for survival in the numerous forests throughout Astralis---he’d rarely encountered any issues, not after the first little while of being barely thirteen and completely alone. He’d lived like a lone wolf in solitude, hunting with his bare hands until he figured out how to craft weapons and traps, even now with the Resistance, with their assigned gatherers and woodsmen, he still greatly preferred to do all of his tracking on his own. He’d always had a hard time trusting people, as much as he might have respected Santiago and Noa ... it was hard to reign back the only true instincts he’d ever really known. That was why, in the wee hours of the morning, he’d taken to the woods in search of a stag whose scent he’d been trailing for the last few days. A buck like that would be enough to feed the entirety of the Rebellion for a good week, if not longer, and Yadriel eagerly welcomed the opportunity to clear his head.
He hadn’t been the same since the wedding. Not really.
He was about three hours into stalking the buck when he’d felt the ground give way beneath him. Molten dark eyes widened in uncharacteristic shock, it was with a choked grunt that he felt a set of sharp spikes shoot upwards and dig in firmly to his midsection. “Jesus fuck,” he spat, angry and in pain as he realized that the unrelenting metal had pierced through his clothing and into his skin, he was bleeding from several jagged puncture wounds, and as he instinctively attempted to twist his way out of the iron teeth, he only succeeded in injuring himself further. This was a trap, obviously---one that was similar to those made for bears but much, much bigger---and with a low, furious growl, Yadriel shouted out into the clearing for the creator of said trap to hear, “Face me like a man and get your cowardly ass out here right fucking now. Who the fuck do you think you are, pislik?”
