Shadewood Dreams seem so real

He was close, on the cusp of winning the battle but the doe was old for a reason. She was wise and fought to stick with the herd. Rye, already exhausted and weak, would have given in, resigned himself to another loss but he wasn't alone, there was something to uphold for Effie. Rye pushed himself hard, his legs reaching their absolute limits and his muscles kneaded rougher than before. Pain wasn't close to describing the ache his body felt, it was more cloee to bolts of white hot agony being etched down his muscles with every stride.

Rye detested the pain, the exhaustion and the hunger that didn't cease reverberating the same messages. To say the least, he was getting annoyed, not to mention fed up with the doe's lack of compliance. Rye pushed towards her but the female kept her nerve and the male was more than willing to test how much nerve that doe had. This time Rye was abundantly more aggressive, growls, snarls and barks alike came out to show and tell. Finally the female relented, taking a sharp right turn from the herd at record pace. A pace Rye couldn't keep up with, he was out of steam, he couldn't push no more but would instead ensure the doe didn't come back towards the herd.

Rye looked to Effie, she needed to make up the difference he couldn't. He glanced back at her, his head giving a cue with a random assortment of movements. The male didn't think it prudent to pick only one, his brain was a cache of meat, dusty, long dead and rotting. That was it, he was fried. There was no telling what else he would screw up.