Dawnlark Plains Hungry, hungry

Sivaak’s ears twitched at the sound of his voice, but she didn’t break stride. Her crimson gaze remained fixed on the trail ahead, the faint deer tracks cutting through frost and dirt like a beckoning line. His question was simple, curt, and she appreciated that he didn’t waste her time with chatter.

“Yes,” she growled, her voice rough and sharp, as though carved from the same jagged stone as her demeanor. Her name was all she offered, her attention already returning to the hunt.

His presence was noted, acknowledged, and then dismissed as unimportant unless he proved otherwise. The tracks veered slightly downhill, where the faint rustle of movement hinted at their quarry.

Her tail gave a subtle flick—a signal, brief and silent—as she slowed her pace, her body lowering slightly toward the ground. The faintest sound could betray them now. Sivaak’s ears twitched, swiveling forward as she caught the soft snap of a hoof on frozen grass.

Without a word, she paused, her head turning slightly toward him. The gesture was slight but deliberate, her crimson gaze meeting his for a heartbeat. She motioned with a small jerk of her muzzle toward the faint outline of the herd in the distance.