Moonspear Like the sea, I'm constantly changing from calm to ill

foxfur. precious, and rife with hues that the woman knew were rarely seen. for a moment of pure desire she let her gaze rest upon the pelt, one ear flicking to sweep bronco's voice into her head. a girl coming to visit moonspear, and the young warrior wishing a useful gift. a smile tugged at her lips; the duck sought to veil it by drawing closer and feathering through the soft guard hairs with gentle presses of her muzzle.

"i will help you." a beam upward toward his taller figure; she lifted the animal and tilted her head, gesturing toward the flat stones that lay around the clearing. upon one she lay the fox; upon another she hoped bronco might put the hide. "the inside parts must be taken out," she said of the beautiful kill, "and then the skin can be separated and dried." 

the duck indicated the belly of the slain beast. "perhaps a pouch can be made, one to carry." too lovely to tear into strips like the skinwraps she wore about her shoulders: this pelt would require more careful work.