Dawnlark Plains Switchback

*violently rolls dice again* fail!

Hopin’ we gehh lucky hhen, comes his response.

With a yap, he set off with Masque in tow—excited for both a challenge and hunt opportunity.

The fawn would be difficult to track considering its odorlessness. He used other subtle clues to steer him in what he thought was the right direction. Mainly, locating the trail of the doe they had spotted earlier. It led them back out to the plains.

He trotted along, checking any spots in the green he thought may hide a fawn. Time ticked and ticked away.

His lack of progress caused his enthusiasm to wane.

Still, he kept searching. 

Believing he’s taken a wrong turn, he changes course toward the moraine again. Maybe they could relocate the doe, he hopes.

Guilt prickles away at him. They’d gone in a circle.