Kintla Flatlands if you listen close, you can hear him cry

The edges of Neverwinter l Mid-Afternoon l 26° (Celcius)

The woman remained anchored around the hot-springs, which seemed the general area the other's had settled at for the time being. But her steps took her near the forest, in the same general direction as the eden Slade spoke of. She sought a meal, something which was a relatively easy endeavour in the summer, and thus one she had expected to finish quickly. But prey evaded her, frustratingly, through sheer luck or shortcoming on her part. It was then she came across the fawn. She had not scented the thing; the young of the species were born without scent. it lay still, so utterly still, and she paused watching it. the way it lay with uncanny stillness, almost hidden in a thicket. no matter how annoying her hunger, she would not kill the thing. it was hardly honourable to kill the thing, nor was it right, when a wolf's purpose was to weed out the weak and allow the land to be strong. 

she turned away, sparing the easy meal, and moved deeper into the fringes of the woods to search for her meal to be.