Lake Rodney My Royces' Rolled

Soon, they were away. Moving into position to cause fear and quick reactions from the deer. Panic. It was essential to the plan. Pool emerged from one side and Vanity from the other, pressing towards the herd. Moving back and forth to keep them in the right direction. Being small, she could avoid most of the panicked hooves, as well as being smart enough to not get too close, but barked instead to make them panic. Make them think she was closer. 

Then, they started moving in. The stag lept in after the doe, and a few others followed with hesitation. They were right to being safe in the water. Pool lunged for a doe, and Vanity too made her move. She had a clear path to leap up onto its neck, and so she did, throwing her lithe form up to hang from the jugular with a growl, scraping for purchase against her hide. If she could get her nails into her, get a secure footing, she could rip the jugular and cause more damage which could end the hunt there and then.

The doe threw herself up and Vanity lost her grip on her neck, dropping to the floor underneath the hooves. They clattered onto her, knocking the breath from her. The adrenaline made her shoot away from the danger, pain searing through her. Still, she rounded back to attack again, this time on the foreleg. She darted forward, grabbing the leg as the doe tried to surge into the water and ultimately tumbled down on her knees.