Sun Mote Copse To the priest with his broken arrows

Here came the proud hunter himself from one side and a curious audience from the other. Amused by being placed in the spotlight so suddenly, Wraen put the bird down, smiled at Avery and then listened patiently to the complaints Bronco threw her way. She stared down at the half-plucked thing that bore bluish red teeth marks on it's body and thought that it was lucky thing that it's heart had given out, when it had. Wraen was all for practice, but she did not support playing with food even for educational purposes. 

"Well, Bronco, I cannot help that the bird fell dead before my feet, when it had reached me," she pointed out to him. "The sight of me probably scared it to death, but I see that you have helped the poor thing along considerably," she did not feel that generous to take all of the blame. "If you," Wraen beckoned to Bronco, "and you, Avery, wish to find something else, we can go and check out muskrat nests in the bog. I think I spied some there earlier. It would be a better practice for you and a more formiddable opponent as well."