Hideaway Strath That's All Right, I Love The Way It Hurts

She was pregnant, that much Hemlocke had not taken note of. After all, spending the majority of his life along or at his mother's side, the thinman had not often hunted as a whole with a pack. He hunted small game, enough for himself and his mother only. Hemlocke took note that with her pregnancy she would give the wolves hell to pay in order to protect not only herself but her unborn child. Also, however, this would make her slower, clumsier and would wear out faster. They really had a 50/50 chance of making this work. If they had more of their pack with them perhaps they would have been better off.

They were off then, quickly-Hemlocke of course as lean as he was, faster then all of them by far. He kept his pace at Derg's side however, taking to one side of their target in hopes that Derg would take her other side so that they may corral her straight and away where she could not reunite with her herd. Derg however, had other plans. Whether him having gotten a panic at the sudden stampede of hooves, whether he just not was very experienced with hunting large game, Derg completely lost sight of his target and instead went for another doe, one smaller, one slick with mud heavy on her body from likely a fall in the bog.

Hemlocke tried to recover himself, tried to change his coarse so that he too was going after the other deer-but he had to catch up and in this would likely completely confuse Nyra and Donovan all the same. Their group of four separated already, Hemlocke tried to bite for the muddy doe's legs though ended up with a mouth full of mud and muck and then he would slip on it as he fell into a pile of mess that had fallen off the elk. He yelps, loud, as he does then tumble onto the ground, the elk far from his grip now.