Dawnlark Plains Hungry, hungry

She crouched low, her massive frame a blur of white and gray against the frost-laden earth. Her breath curled in faint tendrils as she began to move, deliberate and soundless, her every step carefully placed to avoid disturbing the brittle twigs and leaves beneath her paws.

Randolf’s position was unseen now, but she didn’t need to see him. If he was worth anything, he would do what was needed. And if not? She would correct his mistake herself—violently, if necessary.

The doe’s ears twitched, head lifting briefly to sniff the air. Sivaak froze, her crimson eyes narrowing as she waited, her body as still as the frost-covered brush around her. When the doe relaxed, lowering its head to graze once more, Sivaak’s lips pulled back in a predatory grin.

She moved closer, coiling like a spring.