Stone Circle Forgiveness: can you imagine?

An apology.

For long she holds herself unyielding, ears pinning fiercely over her head, breaking her posture only to worry over Skáld, to push a nose below his chin and press a smattering of reassuring licks to his maw.

She turns back to test the air then pads forward towards the kill. She plants her paws on either side. She smells the blood, the heat of still-warm flesh, a freshly slain kill. She considers.

“Take it, Skáld,” she turns her head to see him, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Her tread weaves through the wild meadows under darkness to a retreating figure caught in moonlight.

“Tomorrow,” she calls, endeavoring to pause him and ending her own trot a fair distance away. She slides an anxious  tongue over the sides of her gums.

“Hunt with me?”