Dragoncrest Cliffs jungle bird

She accommodates with a pleasant wag of her tail. Natjuk answers in kind, rivaling her merriment. He's missed this. Not much can be accomplished with one set of teeth. Two, however...He smears a slick tongue over his lips. Yes, he wants this. As quick as we can manage, he announces with expeditious lopes. He sensed she understood this. If not, she will soon.

They slow mechanically, picking apart the herd. Natjuk divined much of the ungulates by scent alone, though not every tidbit of information will be of use in bringing one down. Firstly, this cluster is young. Aside from maybe one leading doe and buck, the rest are on the cusp of maturity. Likely unrelated. Secondly, these are mule deer. Thirdly, it is not uncommon for deer to roam about in search of better food. Notably in brumal months when forbs and grasses are harder to come by. What is strange is how they've invited themselves into enemy territory...Then again, it could be that Drageda has not hunted in a while, giving the impression of safety.

As if perceiving their rapacious appetite, the lead doe halts and revolves her large ears, head raised and alert. She then draws one hoof across the earth, manifestly disconcerted. They behave consequently, food-browsing no more and moving as one. Natjuk's breath hitches. There's no way they know who pursues. Are they just now finding out they roam where they should not, into the jaws of wolves?

Any chances of a swift kill are gone. They have weathered well thus far. Natjuk peers at his associate with steely resolve. He's not about to crumble under this adversity. Not now, not ever. Even so, he will concede before doing anything brash.

They know, he smoothly imparts. No doubt she's noticed by now. They are young, too. Aside from the stout leading doe. What should we do? Natjuk has some ideas. None will ensure a surefire triumph. Something's better than nothing.