Honeyed Pasture trek along?

Pangur moved like a whirlwind. Galen had barely been catching his breath when the beast fell still, his wild eyes cast to her, worry written on his face  — even with the blood marring both their snouts now, there was no missing the ragged mark the buck left. He had gone to say even a syllable, before she was already up and laughing and celebrating. The glee was infectious and instead, he laughed himself, a merry sound, tail sweeping behind him, And multiple trophies to show for it!

They were mostly unharmed, and Pangur had shown her injury like nothing more than the color of her own coat; he could let the concern slide into elation for a few moments, at least. He jostled with her shove, but showed no discomfort, chuckling himself, especially when she spilled out on the ground, sounding more like an old man than himself. He still felt a sense of disbelief, but the evidence lay just a pup's skip from them.

He sunk down on his own haunches, breath still huffing between his teeth like the bellows of a fire. He always ached worse the next day, and he could already feel the way his shoulders and jaw had stiffened. He tipped his own head up to look at the blooming stars, and shook his head and neck out, letting out a relieved sigh. 

You are quite the hunter, Pangur, He commented in the declining stillness. He swept his eyes to the buck, marveling at the wound he could see even from where he sat. He chuckled again, eyes twinkling with humor, and much faster than I.

Had that been me— He raised a paw to gesture to her injury. — I'd have one less eye.