Like all the Deorwine's, visiting the Apostles were not uncommon. They would not hunt, only for the stray hornless, but mostly observe so. She watched from the shadows, pumpkin eyes narrowing at their sight, and caution to the wind. Her paw moved slowly, and from the bush was pushed a red object.

An apple.

Half rotted as the season of winter was coming, and the fruits were officially falling. Every once in a while during the days, would she push it toward them and simply observe.

Preparations were in order, for the time of selection.

And she, was ready.