Kintla Flatlands Plates and Saucers

The she-wolf's ears canted back as she heard the rush of reeds behind her announcing Shrike's accompaniment. A thrilled feeling rose in her gut as the scent of deer became more heady. She did not notice the male's posture behind her, though she could hear the quick foot steps that confirmed he was still only a stride or two out. At the brim of a tussock-lined hedge the she-wolf stopped and hunkered down, her gaze settling ahead where a small congregation of deer milled. Pallas, for all her years, had never perfected the art of hunting: but she had perfected the art of an ambush. Like her he was thin, but there was a leanness to him that suggested swiftness and tenacity.

If Shrike was still besides her she would cast him a silent look before fastening her gaze on the closest deer to them, a juvenile doe who at the moment, had her back to the two wolves on the rise. She snaked forward on her stomach, mindful of the wind as she advanced. She was not particularly picky on which way they executed their hunt, so long as they were rewarded in the end with a meal. Quietly she would inch painstakingly close to the herd  until there was no more cover to conceal her -- and then she would burst from the reeds and hopefully flank the doe alongside her newly minted companion.