Dawnlark Plains Hungry, hungry

Sivaak’s snarl softened into a growl, her ears flicking at the man’s words. His apology did little to soothe her temper, but his calm demeanor and the purposeful shift of his attention caught her interest.

Her crimson eyes followed his gaze, noting the faint tracks in the frost—the staggered, deliberate gait of the aging doe.

She huffed, her hackles settling slightly as she stepped closer to where he stood. The herd had scattered, but not far. The possibility of another kill simmered in her thoughts, keeping her fury at bay.

For a moment, she said nothing, simply watching as he tested the tracks. When he glanced back, her gaze met his. She moved forward without hesitation, brushing past him with a deliberate flick of her tail, her nose to the trail.

“You follow,” she commanded flatly, her voice still rough with the remnants of her earlier anger. “Keep up, or stay out Sivaak way.”