Broken Antler Fen a whistler and her gun

Zola would defer to the judgement of the natives. This is how she was going to learn to survive here, after all. Nodding, she forced her hulking body to the ground and began to creep toward the strange prey-beasts. She said nothing to the other woman, content to follow orders.

It was almost a struggle. More times than naught the pronghorns would look up, seeing both women were of no blended coloring. The snow was not a stark difference if they were white. Zola had to uncomfortably press herself further to the earth to avoid being seen a few times.

Eventually, she was positioned in a good spot. She dared lift her eyes to the woman, waiting for a signal.