The arrowhead gleamed silver in the moon's veil of light, and the arrow whistled as it flew through the air, successfully and neatly piercing through the back of the last Bokoblin's head. Almost silently, the monster slipped off its horse, landing on its back as its horse galloped away to freedom. Lowering his bow, the male ran a tongue along his top teeth, hooking the weapon on his back. His clothes ruffled in the wind, and the moonlight casts an eerie shadow of him on the ground. He shifted from his perch on top of the mountain, his hidden gaze sharper than his arrows as he surveyed the plains below him. Nothing seemed to catch his interest, and he released a silent breath that almost sounded disappointed.