A bloody carcass lay helpless in the openness of the green field, its gory crimson fluids tainting the innocence and beauty of the unblemished prairie. As the gentle zephyr rode through the stillness of the air, the deeply stained carcass quivered with a seemingly final breath. A single arrow protruded vainly out of the beauty of the mammal, its fluttering black feathers swaying in the wind. Even as a pool of blood encased the dripping mammal in its grasp, a mere little circle of the same thickened liquid clotted around the ingress of the skilfully shot arrow. The crows cawed incessantly as though waving a noisy farewell to their relation by nature while the vultures encircled the cadaver with hungry eyes.

             Even as the blood oozed out of the bravely brought down antelope, a dark figure approached the stained mammal leisurely, enjoying morbidly watching life slowly ebb out of that creature of God. The sun shone with radiance behind that individual, darkening his features and visage. His silhouette stood firm before the intimidating glare of the sun, marking out his perfectly crafted physique. Smirking, he encircled the fallen warrior, almost daring it to get back on its feet. The antelope made one last futile effort and its beady eyes landed on its killer’s veiled face, reproaching him for his deed of cowardice. Summoning all its potency, it snarled a vicious snarl against its huntsman. But, he merely smiled. And the antelope – It accepted its fate and sacrificed the only thing it had ever rightfully owned – It’s life.

            The huntsman shook his head at the pitiable efforts of the antelope trying to escape the destiny that had been written for it. Death cannot be escaped, however cruel it may be. As the huntsman shook the tiny beads of perspiration off his veiled face, the antelope shuddered and fell limp. Such is the beauty of Death; it embraces you with open arms, calls out to you, caresses your most unappreciated qualities, makes you beautiful but, the life out of you. The huntsman bent low, gripped the cold legs of the flaccid creature, slung it over his shoulders and turned lithely, the sun no longer hovering behind his firm back. And then he walked forward, his hands grasping the heavy creature resting across his broad shoulders. He allowed a slight smile of triumph come upon his unsentimental face and murmured, “My first hunt has been successful.”

             The huntsman was skilled, the huntsman was strong, and the huntsman was a Choi Minho. He strode forward, conquering the expanse of the green field even as the drops of animal blood on his shoulders dried to form maroon beads. He was proud of his catch. He was proud of his prize and pride meant that he could earn his living. Minho’s toned chest heaved slightly as the weight of his catch shifted. His muscular frame stood straight and tall, towering over most other feeble mortals. To Minho, strength was beautiful and killing, to him, was an expression of power. He was rough, cruel, hardened and silent – the perfect hunter. The only sentimental part of him seemed to be his eyes. They were lipid, with a pleasing sort of moistness in them that seemed to reassure the onlooker. At the first glance, they seemed a cruel black, but with a few more gazes, the eyes seemed to dissolve into a dark, customary brown and a few instances later, a delicate shade of hazel. They were beautiful, his eyes; with curves so gentle that it seemed almost outlandish on his hardened visage. An indolent flicker in his beautiful eyes seemed to scream out narcissism, a lazy knowledge that he knew himself how perfectly he had been crafted. But even Choi Minho, the rugged turpitude, had his share of imperfections. Seemingly, to compromise the overwhelming beauty of his moist, arched eyeballs, one tender curve of his right eye seemed more skewed, more prominent than the other. But, it hampered not his beauty; because, just like that fraction of humanity in the world that builds upon their imperfections, Minho made his flaws, his assets. Choi Minho’s imperfections were beautiful.

             Just like Lee Taemin’s.Maybe that’s why Fate had them meet.

        Swinging his rippled arms, craggily stained with stench of freshly killed animal flesh, Minho conquered the immense expanse of the untainted grassland. Even as he advanced forward, with each diminutive step, the grassland seemed to shrink a little, cry a little; in fear, perhaps. Because Minho was a hunter, a ruthless murderer of the fragments of Nature and the grassland wished to protect the life it harboured. His sweaty, sinewy frame stood tall, braving the weight of the lifeless carcass swung carelessly across his broad shoulders. He waited an instance, breathing in the rich, sweet odour of spiteful victory, before traversing down the vast greenness of gently swaying prairie. Strenuously, supporting the weight of his fine kill, Minho made his craggy way to the crude settlements of his brothers in the kill. The tents trembled with the gusts of the irate wind, even as their inhabitants shivered in the chill.

          Minho walked inside, with the apparent arrogance of a triumphant man – A man with a victory to boast of. With immense pride, he conspicuously dropped the proportionate body of the glistening cadaver onto the flattened grass. Placing one conceited foot on the light coat of the slaughtered deer’s torso, Minho curved his lips into a smirk of evident fulfilment. His fellow hunters formed a protective circle around the massacred mammal, letting out admiring sighs and appreciative murmurs.

“Envy me. Envy my prize, my kill, my success. Envy my existence.” Every gesture of his seemed to emanate those utterances. Such was his narcissism – his absolute love for himself. His was utterly egotistical, but somehow, he seemed to have reason to be so.

          Minho stood beside his kill, gazing down at the remains with a kindly, almost indulgent eye. He had grown to love that lithe, lifeless corpse of deer bulk. It seemed more sanctified, more sacred after its Death, somehow. He stood in the centre, at the very hub of all attraction; with the admiration of his superiors ringing in his haughty ears. He enjoyed the attention; he enjoyed being the centre of attraction. It appealed to his arrogant, conceited mindset that was starved of attention. He craved for the admiration, the fame, the power. He extracted a centre sort of personal strength by watching the life ebb out of hapless, helpless creatures whose mentality couldn’t match up to that of humans. He took pleasure in Death – perhaps that’s why he chose to step into the rough boots of a rugged huntsman.

           With a lilt in his tone, an evident arrogance in his stride, Minho raised one hand to calm the overwhelming appreciation that flowed so readily out of his fellow huntsmen’s lips. Perhaps, that’s what power is. Before you achieve, you are ignored, bombarded in all directions by that section of society that loves to on the advantages offered by you, but the moment you rise upward, you’re grand, strong and powerful. Just like when a little leopard cub massacres its own brother to gain the affection it craves; to lap up all of its Mother’s affection itself – alone and strong.

            Minho was an astute leopard cub in more ways than one. He was strong, lithe and vehemently repudiated the mere notion of sharing the limelight with any but his own self. He thrived in his lonesome status; to him, loneliness was the greatest potency he had ever possessed. Because a lone man could never double-cross anyone, not even his own self.

“Isn’t she a fine specimen?” Minho asked, almost rhetorically, even as he took in the muscular stature of the massacred herbivore.

             His superiors nodded their heads in mutual conformity. They bent low, admired the slain creature; not for its beauty. They revered it as a prize, an accolade of the highest paradigm. The deer had been beautiful when its strong legs had been able to gallop across the tender, swaying leaves of the tall grass. But, the deer had turned fine, the very instance the first drop of its crimson blood oozed out of that lethal puncture in its heart. It was now, to the huntsman, a prize. To them, it never had been an animal that once breathed the very air that enters the huntsmen’s own lungs. To them, the deer was always an object to be brought down and owned. It was their source of livelihood. And to Minho, it was an indication of his swiftness and hunting prowess; an entity that filled his void of sadism.

“What should I do with her? Shall we use her as meat?” Minho asked, eagerly lapping up the admiration of his comrades.

“Rubbish! Minho, do talk sense sometimes!” A short, forceful man roughly moved up front. “You really think of eating this fine body?”

“Well then, Jonghyun, why don’t you give me some suggestions?” Minho asked, rather aloofly. He never had liked Jonghyun. Jonghyun never seemed to have given him the encouragement he required, the help he had asked for. But, more often than not, he would let loose his long gamut of sarcasm and superiority.

The short individual paused for a while and then smirked, “Did you know people actually pay tremendous amounts if you sell them this carcass. It’s used for an art call Taxidermy wherein they stuff the insides of an animal to preserve it. But, of course, I don’t expect a novice like you to know anything about it.” Jonghyun shrugged.

“Oh, shut the nonsense and tell me where I can sell it!” Minho said sharply.

“There’s this man – well, boy actually. He goes by the name of Lee Taemin. He’ll buy this from you within an instant for any amount you charge. He’s one of those crazy artist ones. All he desires in life is procuring new animals to stuff. It’s freaky, actually.” Jonghyun stated.

           But, Minho was far from paying any attention to Jonghyun’s personal comments. His mind was engaged in planning his future after he would be loaded with the hard cash. There were few things Minho lusted behind, after fame; one of them was money - sweet, sweet money. 
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Hello there! It's been a while, hasn't it? So, I present to you, the second chapter! Again, a huge, huge thanks to my lovely, lovely readers! I love you for your comments and your motivation! Well, turns out, I'm not entering this fic in the contest afterall! I can't finish it! T__T 
Anyway, here's thanking;

not_so_innocent              ChimCheree              minimimi               FreakLikeMe0727             NeverStopTheNoise            mdallas71              

                                 Khairinasaysrawr                                       tweet226

@ChimCheree - This story's coming to you soon for a review! XD

@NeverStopTheNoise - PenPalll!~ Any of your awesome synonsis for this chapter? XDD

@caline - VAL DEE! When are you going to read this? T__T