At last, he slipped silently to a nearby clear stream and swiftly snared a plump mountain hare with the steel wire noose trap he'd brought—skilled hands cutting its throat to bleed it, skinning and gutting it, then skewering it on a branch to roast with careful attention.
When the enticing aroma of crisped rabbit meat spread through the air, Legolas sat cross-legged by the warm fire, chewing slowly and swallowing with cool stream water, every mouthful of food turning into a rush of heat that restored his lost strength.
As night fell like spilled ink, he wrapped his Leather Armor tighter around himself and dozed lightly with his back against the icy rock wall, Spirit drawn taut like a half-drawn bowstring, keen hearing on guard for the slightest rustle of wind or grass outside the cave.
At first light of dawn, when the dim glow broke the horizon, Legolas was already bright-eyed, fully geared up.
