morning's earliest light found lestan on the move again, drifting into the cuesta as his stomach pinched. he'd eaten only once since traveling away from the creek on his hunting foray, hunger sharpening him from the shy, pathetic thing he was before others into something more.
attuned to each breath of wind and the calls of meadowlarks on the wing, cognizant of the deer tracks and the larger hoofprints left by caribou, lestan pressed on until the aroma of hare filled his senses.
his belly tightened and he started to creep forward, dropping lithe shoulders into a hunter's crouch.
just so long as lestan kept all his attention on the pursuit, his mind would avoid its dwelling on other matters.