OOc: @Blue Willow |Takes place before the NSV event. Heading along the river, south towards the Ridge.
She was certainly not a happy female, walking away from the outskirts of a failed hunt. It was quite a blow to her pride, but more so to her physically, having misjudged her surroundings in her eagerness to pursue fresh meat.
She had done so with the hope of returning a trophy to the den. Something, anything that might earn favor with her denmate and the pack. But alas the rise of the season was not in her favor, increasing her natural musk to notable proportions that even a wallow in mud and earth could not douse. In the end, it only served to make her dirty, and quite foolish in her attempts to fall a young fawn. The warrior turned hunter had followed the trail for hours, moving along the banks of the river, bypassing the plateau in closing pursuit. It had been alone, a young one lost from its herd and perhaps left for dead. Easy enough for her large bulk to take on her own… but agile and as it was proven, tricky.
When the prey was cornered in the thick of the woods, her confidence got the better of her… til the wind shifted through the trees. The fawn was quick, and in her closing bound, she met not tender flesh but the prickled surface of a thorn bush. Nose, muzzle, brows, even her chest was pricked and skewered. It was a horrid mess; the don of failure in a tangible form.
From there, she relinquished her hunt and traveled back down the river. A limp to her step and a wavering pattern as she walked with but one amber eye open to lead her way. The other was tightly closed due to the thorns that punctured and clung to her brow. |