Larksong Grotto Ligeia

They were old enough that this was to be expected.

Wandering and weaving. Masquerade's scent followed another. One of prey — and with it came the soft washing of pride. She was already set on a good track in life.

But such was to be expected for the child of Wealda.

When he caught up to her (for he was in no dire rush) the herd had already departed. Which left him with just the girl, huffing and heaving.

Tell me what you saw, It was an invitation for a hunting report, if she cared to share.