Porcupine Ridge little bird cry no more

Diane had been relying mainly on cache supplements since her arrival on the Ridge. She hadn't had a single successful hunt, still adjusting to the contrasts of having been raised for two years on beach dunes to the mountain she lived on now. The culture shock alone was enough to throw her off her game, but the air pressure and the absence of the never-silent ocean, made things both muffled and too loud. Though mostly her problem lie in the fact that she was faster than she was used to being. Running through sand her entire life had over-prepared her for a life on solid land. She often overshot and overcompensated on her springs and as a result would stumble as her brain sought to catch up with the new speed she had.

Her pads were hurting less and less, as days went on, making her hunts closer to success each time, but she still ran out of breath too fast and now she had a recent injury, which further deterred her efforts. For the past week, she had been applying more and more pressure to her leg until her limp was barely noticeable at all. The toothmarks were still there, but weren't as angry or red as they had been in days past. Diane took the clearer, warmer morning weather and the absence of a shrill ache in her leg to try at her first hunt in a while.

Fortune followed her. A rabbit, taking advantage of the above freezing temperatures to forge, never knew his demise. All of Diane's pent up energy and pressure from past failures made her blinding arrow of fur and teeth. She snapped up the hare, savoring the slick taste of blood as her trophy quarry dangled limply from her jaws. Her first mountain-side catch!

Paging strangers: @Terich-mir and/or @Anwyl — I would be happy to have  anyone else to jump in as well 8)