Honeyed Pasture trek along?

The golden stretch of grass was something to behold, even in winter's grasp, which squeezed so tightly the fronds into the earth; yet little yellow bridges still fought through it, here and there. It was like something out of a childhood, a rolling field of snow and softness to run through, to feel the bite of cold and the foolhardiness of life.

He had walked a while, only pausing as the dusk settled on the meadow like a whisper. He sat, sighing out a frosty breath. Galen shook his head, knocking flecks of snow free of his snout and head. He didn't know where he was going exactly, almost following the sun on his back - searching.

His stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten since morning, and there were no streams around for him to fish from; as far as the eye could see. He snorted to himself, he didn't have the best chances anyway. He could see dark shapes far ahead, snow and lowlight glinting off their backs too. A pair of mule deer, maybe.

Pangur too, stalked the beasts ahead, albeit from a different angle; she followed tracks that had been there since the previous day, all the way from the forest of Forneskja. Light feet caught up with them quick. Nobody would be angry at a hunt or two outside of the territory; all it meant was that Pangur had a much more tiring trip back home, hauling her kill.

By now, she'd come a little too far to be satisfied on rabbits. She kept low, and within her own cover; the tall grass a blessing as it defied winter's touch. Ahead, a buck! antlers barely visible from here, it grazed alongside a partner, backs slicked with evening frost, twinkled as the setting sun cast rays of gold and purple.

A fine huntress most days, but ever too zoned in, she startled when she noticed the other hunter nearby, cloaked in a gold more brilliant than her own. The rustling of her misstep alerted the deer to their positions, and they dashed in mere moments. Pangur's ears flattened to her head, and she whipped back around to look at the stranger, almost menacing for a moment.

Ah! Hallo! She greeted with a cheery twinge, now that silence was not needed, and began a slow trot over. Pangur was not one to give up so easy.

The start of the deer across the pasture was enough to startle him too, his head whirling to the sound that had firstly disturbed them. His foul luck made him fear for the worst, a bear or cougar on a late night prowl - one hungry enough in winter's landscape to try for a wolf. Instead, he was relieved, as the opposite stranger perked up.

Immediately, he was given to relief. It threaded tension away from his shoulders and spine in an instant, morphing from something wary to something warm. A respite from the frosty air. The merest of company was welcome on such a dusk as this.

Hello! He replied, brows raised as he smiled, all without teeth. His ears folded, a tick meek. I apologize if I interrupted your hunt.

Pangur shakes her head in response You did not! She assures with a rise to her voice, almost melodic, a light, carefree cadence on her tongue as there always was. They can still be caught, no? We just walk further. She would shrug, hazel eyes trained now on the horizon, whose golden glow bathed the land; all beauty such as that; the work of the gods. Her placement here, to hunt alongside a soon to be not-stranger, the will of the gods.

Pangur's reverence was silent, a thought dancing away in her mind.

You will come, yes? We can split it between us! Already she bounded ahead, the illusion of choice offered to him while really she just ushered him to follow. There was more than just invitation in her voice, there was challenge, playful and light, eager to be met. Over the shoulder, she called with a grin What are you called? I am Pangur!