Hoshor Plains The Winds of Notos!

The deer pranced; there was no other word for it. Talisman was riveted, arctic blue eyes tracking every one of the ungulate’s wild movements and wondering to himself, Why? Why did he dance like that? Was he simply giddy? Or was there perhaps some mildly interesting, mundane explanation? Maybe he’d been stung by a bee? It seemed a little late in the year for that, though it was always possible.

All the joyful movement came to an abrupt stop and Talis shrunk even further down into the grass, wary of being spotted. What if the buck noticed him and charged? Talis thought he could probably outmaneuver if not outpace the larger creature… but there was no telling, was there? He could get trampled by those erratic hooves. All it would take was one well-aimed kick and that deer could take his whole self out, Hokey Pokey him straight into the afterlife.

It’s time, Talisman thought to himself, creeping a forepaw across the ground, to turn yourself around. Slowly, methodically, he attempted to rotate his body 180°, with the hope of going undetected as he slunk back in the direction of the riverbank.