Wapun Meadow An owl in the closet

The heavy stench of blood did not go undetected by Simatra. A glance and a few brief seconds of focus on her partner's cerulean gaze told her that she too had picked up on the flaw. A few blatant strategies flitted through the mind of the golden wolfess but one stood out in particular; a combination of her two previous thoughts. "We will charge them from the thickets," she spoke, voice a low rumble. "With any luck they will flee to the grasses and we can tackle the lame one where offence can be clearly placed. I trust that with the skills of you and I, we will have full advantage once they are out in the open." Full expectations and high hopes of success were things that the Kali now placed upon the greyed woman's shoulders. "Be careful."

And they were moving again, Simatra leading on with a sweep of her feathered tail as the team loped parallel with the meadow, their pelts a myriad of earthy tones as they flitted beneath the great boughs, until they reached a twisted yew. Through the branches, the tattered hide pelt of the stag could be seen, and presumably his hareem of two would not be far off. The limping figure of the injured sidled into view as the pair came to a stop and the golden huntress stole a glance at her company, her gaze knowing. Here, if Israel would agree, they would prepare the final stages of their attack.