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Herne slowly drew the arrow back in the cradle of the ancient bow. Looking down the sight at the mighty buck he had been stalking he could “feel” it’s heart beat – calm and smooth – in tandem with his own breathing. Waiting until just the right moment he loosed his finger from the nock and like a silent hawk it dove towards it’s target. With a healthy thwack the single arrow fell the stag. Making peace with the spirit of the deer as he dispatched it, he said a few words in the ancient forest tongue. Tonight his family would eat, and for the next week. The Hinterlands had been bountiful this day, but now to get the meat back out with himself in one piece…