Golden Glade demuts

She appears quickly, as though she'd been watching him from the beyond. An ear flicks as she investigates the pronghorn, marveled at its figure, though he didn't think it was anything special.

Pronghorn, he says to her, watching how she ran a paw up its spine, save for the blood coating its delicate, fragile specimen, of a neck. He tucks a breath in from his throat.

Returning the favor.