Overture Downs winds of east

Morwenna's paws slowed as they entered the clearing, the sharp scent of blood saturating the air. The old bull, worn and trembling with fatigue, stood defiant on unsteady legs. His deep, resonant challenge echoed through the trees, reverberating against her chest.

She glanced at Sun Eater, her eyes flickering with uncertainty. She had not doubted the necessity of their hunt, nor the inevitability of its end, but now, faced with the bull’s raw defiance, she faltered. What did he want her to do? To join the final charge? To flank the beast while he delivered the killing blow?

Her breath puffed in silver clouds as she watched the great Chieftain's measured stance. Sun Eater, poised and composed, seemed unshaken by the spectacle. Yet, Morwenna's ears pressed against her skull. She could feel the weight of the moment, the age-old battle between predator and prey.

The bull scraped the earth with a battered hoof, shaking his antlers as if to remind them of his might. It wasn’t fear she felt, not entirely—it was reverence, a sense of her place within the cycle of life and death.