within the recesses of the trees, after the moon had risen high into the darkened sky, taltos had pursued a stag and his does. a striking absence of fawns among the herd had not deterred the spirit, who had been stricken with an overinflated sense of self during the inexorable trudge of nightfall.
and so he had followed them, and roused them from their rest. at length, the stag whirled to lower antlers toward the pursuer, but lasher had lunged at him with a throated snarl and the animal had lost his nerve and quite nearly his footing. weaving between the hard tree-boles, taltos had seized with long teeth the straining haunch of a young doe with a slight but unfortunate limp, and attempted to use his bulk to trip her.
he succeeded only in halting her steps, and while her fellows thundered on, the epsilon vied terribly with the flailing hooves and wild, rolling eyes of the doe, narrowed in pain and terror upon him. she would not buckle, however, but he was loathe to release her, and so continued to struggle with his would-be victim, heart thrumming as his energies peaked and began to swiftly fall.