Dawnlark Plains XXXVIII

None of the youngsters tried to get closer, for which Masque was grateful. Perhaps they had a healthy fear of and respect for the bison. It made them think of their first hunt, when they’d cowered before the elk. They’d come a long way since then, though Masquerade was still of the mind that pups shouldn’t join a hunt until they were older, at least six months of age.

The calf’s frightened bawl scattered the Caru’s thoughts. They glanced at the hunting party, then shifted their gaze to the pups, watching for their reactions. Their tail waved as they licked their chops, already imagining the taste and texture of fresh veal.