Moonspear In all my years of living

Moving gingerly, Treepie folded herself down against the rock so she could not be spotted so easily. She glanced at Hakumele at the foot of the boulder, then scanned the field with not just her eyes but her other senses as well. She saw nothing. And the only sound her ears picked up was the noise of an easterly wind buffeting down the mountainside.

Her lips pursed as she shifted her weight. Tiuttuk knew hunting required patience, though sometimes it was so hard sitting still. She drew in a deep breath, pushed it toward her belly, held it as long as she could, then let it out in a slow whoosh. You got this, she told herself, mustering all her patience.