Whitebark Stream put my hands in the fire, watched my welcome wear thin

then, suddenly, the ice gives. the sharp crack is enough to send the rest of the herd wheeling, stampeding a short distance away, as the doe issues a keening call. dawn shifts, poised, glancing once at her companion. but fear is a powerful force, and a moment later, the doe frees herself, emerging stumbling onto the bank. stilt-like limbs quiver, frigid water rushes off her pelt and then she is rushing after the rest of them—limping. 

"are you a proficient hunter, Xizur?" asks the woman then, turning to glance at him. he's young, but well-built, perhaps just edged into adulthood. already, she's fairly certain of what she plans to do next, mind working as she regards the youth. not now, not yet, but within the day. there exists a perfect window where the herd is settled but the doe still weakened; it is this she seeks to pin down. the pair speak a little while longer before the boy takes his leave, allowing the woman to watch over the herd a while longer.