Wapun Meadow in the way you're walking,

tvar takes control of the animals neck, fuelling a fire inside of her, the huntress's spirit that she had worked oh so hard to hone roaring alive and powering her small, yet muscled figure. she moves, then, with quick though no less graceful paws, and snaps her teeth around the opposite side of the deers neck.

with the pair on its pressure points, it comes crashing down, legs wobbling, weak, as scarlet ambrosia spills from its skin. for a moment, panting, she draws back, though with a single glance at tvar, she powers through exhaustion, as is typical for the polar-cub, and sinks her fangs into the ungulate once more. a second, two, three go by, and it is grounded, panting, looking around with dark, wild eyes that eventually go still.

the hunt is over. her white maw is bloodied, and she heaves breaths over the deers body. her tongue cleans the blood from her lips as she returns her gaze to tvar, giving a silent nod. their meal is earned. she begins to eat, saving her words for a later time.

a moment of silence. a moment shared. together.