Porcupine Ridge headfirst for halos

He had to act, otherwise they would be sitting here for ages. And if she was waiting for him. . .

Hex lunged suddenly toward the elderly goat, hoping that its age would hamper retreat. His jaws aimed for its back ankles; if he could seize one, or at least sever a tendon, it gave them a better chance to bring their quarry down.

Instead, his teeth clicked down on empty air, and he barely avoided a hoof to the cheek. But he kept on, trying to steer the goat toward the waiting huntress.

The herd had exploded into bleating, stomping chaos.