Duck Lake what do you see

“Good.”

He left her with a smirk of his own as he padded away down the hill. The cold earth muffled his passing, and his agouti fur cloaked him against the rustic grass. He watched and listened with wide eyes and erect ears, and his smirk faded as his focus intensified. As he reached the shallow gully, his face had grown stern. He crouched into it and started stalking along it's narrow bottom. The thick shadows in the gully cloaked him still further, but the Pronghorn, with their specialized eyes, would see him if Aguta failed to grab their attention.

He resisted the urge to check on her. Her job was less precise; easier. He'd be surprised if she couldn't handle it. He just had to trust that her reckless impulsivity wouldn't extend to the hunt.

Goldry slid expertly through the darkened gully until it started to pan out and rise into the field. He crouched even lower into the grasses, aware that the breeze would be at his disadvantage now. His lips spread apart in a wide, white-toothed smile, however, as he saw all three pronghorn fixed on Aguta. She stalked forward like a graceful marionette, appearing almost suspended above the field. They were too far away to make eye contact, but she didn't need it. She burst forward toward the tawny creatures just as he slipped into position.

Perfect.

It was a little eerie how well this hunt was going. She was inexperienced, and he was... well, only lucky. It was nothing more than chance that one of the pronghorn broke its leg earlier. If it had missed that prairie dog hole, none of them would be here now.

Goldry tensed his back legs, which were coiled beneath him like a spring. His pupils were wide and his eyes glued on the pronghorn with an awkward lope. Aguta ran behind them in careful, measured paces. She was their shadow.

The lead pronghorn, the buck, came within fifty yards, then thirty, then ten. Right before it flew past him, Goldry sprang. He struck at the group like a viper. The buck broke away to his right, sprinting like mad to the cottonwood on the high hill. The other two dodged to his left, tripping into the quaking aspen and tall, thick grasses of the deep gully. With hardly a glance at Aguta, Goldry shot after them. The healthiest of the two does could make it out if she hurried, but the one with a limp was almost certainly doomed.

Yet there was still a desperate hope in her eyes. The wolves hadn't caught her yet.