Otatso Wetlands Let me think about it

Zhavvi was obviously green, as she lacked the finesse that the best hunters had when approaching their prey, however, she certainly made up for her lack of experience with a butt-load of spirit.  Lavakho watched from the brush, proud as proud could be as she shot out toward the herd with all her speed.  It certainly wasn't pretty, but it worked.  In and out, she successfully dodged a flurry of kicking legs and frightened ungulates.  She was doing just fine, that is, until she separated the fawn from it's mother.

"Yeni," he cursed under his breath.

He had expected the mother to run in fear with the rest of the herd, however that was not the case.  She trailed behind Zhavvi, picking up more and more ground on her every second.  She was far too inexperienced to face this on her own, and to return back to Rakharo with his daughter injured would not be a favorable scenario.  Lavakho sprinted toward the fray, past the fawn Zhavvi had lead right into his grasp, past Zhavvi herself, and aimed his muzzle directly at the kicking mother's throat.  His jaws clamped around her neck as he ripped and tore. The neck snapped and she fell to the ground, immobile and limp.  "Jaseve thric daskna vrak," he shouted over to Zhavvi who still chased the staggering fawn.