The night was dark and chilly, the smell of rain was thick in the forest. Artemis loved the smell of rain, but she ignored it and focused on the task at hand.
Her target this mission was a small brown she-wolf that was currently stalking a small doe that had wandered away from the rest of it’s herd, completely unaware that she was being stalked herself. She wasn’t given any information except what the target looked like in both wolf and human form.
Artemis silently adjusted her quiver that was full of arrows that were laced with wolfsbane and lifted her bow up slightly. She reached back slowly and pulled out one of the black feathered arrows and carefully notched it. Then she silently drew the string back with her half gloved hand until the feathers tickled her ear.
Breathe in, breathe out, she thought to her self as she sighted the arrow, she aimed for the gap between the wolf’s shoulder blades. All she needed to do was pierce the skin and the poison would do the rest.
She released the arrow with a nearly silent twang. She only stayed to make sure she hit her mark, though she didn’t need to. She always hit her mark. The wolf let out a howl of pain that quickly turned into a high pitched scream as she shifted back to human.
But Artemis heard all of this from over a quarter mile away. She took the long way back to the meeting point, taking care to cover her scent and her tracks. Only once she reached the edge of the forest did she slow down to a walk.
She didn’t exit the forest until she came to her point of entry, she would have drawn attention to anyone driving along the highway, though it was very unlikely anyone would have gone by.
She was dressed in her traditional mission clothes. Thick black leggings, a plain black t-shirt under a leather hooded vest, she chose not to wear her combat boots as it was easier to cover her tracks when she was barefoot. She also wore her bow glove, it covered just the first two fingers and thumb on her right hand. Her quiver was fairly light and was able to hold her bow if she needed to use both hands for something. Her bow, her weapon of choice, wasn’t any ordinary bow. It was metallic and designed so that it could be folded down, but could also pop open with a flick of her wrist, and the grip was custom made just for her hand.
Once she came to the spot where she had stashed her bike she threw her hood back, releasing her long blonde hair from its temporary prison. She uncovered her bike, the newest Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6R, a fitting bike for her line of work. She grabbed her boots out of the one compartment it had and replaced them with her quiver and folded up bow. Then she put the boots on, started it up, and was on the road back to headquarters, ready for her next mission.