"It's very difficult," said the Soldier, "and if you're not determined, you can never manage to catch one of them."
He leaned back in his armchair, and sucked upon a long straw which he held between his forefingers. I had often seen him around with the straw, but he never smoked anything. Perhaps it was a vestige of an old habit.
"Whatever you do, never lose your composure. They can sense your moods, your impatience, your temper; they live on such emotions, savoring your frustrations as we would a tasty meal.
The key, or at least one of them, is not to rely on sight. You might catch a glimpse of them, fleeting shadows on the edge of your field of vision. And that is all you can see before they fade away into the background in their infallible camouflage.
But, as I found, you can always smell them. A good nose will do that for you, and if you don't have one, a hunting dog will do as well to sniff them out. A dog makes the hunt too easy, however. You'll never get the visceral feel of killing like that.
You'll never hit them with bullet rounds, nor beat them with knifes or bayonets. They're that good... but I found a way to best them. It was simple, really."
The Soldier reached out towards the upper drawer of his work table, and pulled it slowly, as if he was delaying the moment of final revelation. Proudly, he beckoned for me to view the contents of the drawer.
Beside the stack of framed fairy corpses was a bottle of small beads, each just small enough to fit a straw, the cruel ammunition for his crazed genocide.
Beside the stack of framed fairy corpses was a bottle of small beads, each just small enough to fit a straw, the cruel ammunition for his crazed genocide.
Exercise nouns: bead drawer fairies nose soldier temper
