The Heartwood Crows... they're an omen, aren't they?

and heshe was pursuing hunting chasing running and every other thought that hammered within herhis brain with each striking of long paws against dried earth and each traitorous sway of the hunted so close so close just out-within reach right there before the snout.

the pronghorn fawn's balance was solid enough for it to run fast but hot fear and a child's stamina had it losing the chase. so close so close so close so-

the change from bright light to muted shadow had himher - panting aching muscles burning breath escaping - slowing just for a moment to see that the hunt had led herhim into a blackened woodland of ash kicked up high by both prey and hunteress but blinding and choking only 
the hunteress who had to had to 

stop

once shehe did so, heshe panted, heaved, heart drumming bam bam bam every muscle like fresh nettleburns limbs shaking an unable to support the trunk and heshe fell-

collapsed onto herhis side, tongue loling out and tasting wet and beaten ash. trough wavering vision the greyhound saw herhis quarry escape.