Stone Circle Nose to the Ground

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Tail up, head down. Each day, the territory grew less of a stranger to him; though, equally open and unknown. He knew little. So, he would learn himself.

Morning made him snake beyond the hills, eyes forward with his head pushed to the soil. His nostrils would flare widely, inhaling deep breaths of scent that sat in his nasal canal. Ungulate. He treaded forward, quick in pace with his tail switching from level to high upon the strength of the aroma. Delicate, colorful flora spanned for miles and was trampled below his feet. They offered little distraction; though, muddied this scent, he still could follow it.

He still tracked it.

Deer were not far, perhaps a mile or so out from where he'd started. Close, and that was all he knew. The gage of distance came almost naturally. Bonnie would continue to dissect their trail, steadfast, unaware and yet learning that he was in the Hunting Fields.