⚔️Serberia

The hunter frowned. Squatting down, he plucked a blade of grass and chewed on it, gazing into the distance and desperately trying to find the words to express what he felt.
- I've realized two things... First, I'm far from my former skill, - he grimaced, and old wounds ached in confirmation. - And it's not just in my body. My spirit... Hmm... That is, my heart...
Veserod shook his head and spat out the grass angrily.
- Before, I shot instinctively, - he tried to explain differently. - The earth, the wind, and the sun guided my hand, and I hit the beast without fail. Now... My spirit... Yes. My spirit seems to have lost that connection with the all-encompassing. Or almost lost it...
His unfocused gaze wandered aimlessly over the surrounding vegetation.
- Now I try to figure it out with my mind. How to shoot, when to shoot, how it will fly. And it turns out much worse. My movements are slow, my heart is not in the right place, the arrow doesn't fly as it should, - he looked at Gregor, shook his head, and sighed, hoping he had at least conveyed the thought.
Standing up and kicking a small pebble, he continued, now more confidently.
- And the second thing is, I've been here for so long, but I'm still an outsider. When I go into the forest, I'm like a blind kitten. In the lands of the Rus, there isn't even a tenth of the beasts that I see around here, and I don't know what to expect behind the next tree. Well, at least it's interesting, - he gave Gregor a wry smile. - Some of the beasts are very hideous; you wouldn't even call them beasts. The gods of these lands clearly do not favor the presence of humans.