Dawnlark Plains Tûnuck

tuhin left darukaal's glacier behind, after a time. it would serve well to map more of the nearby lands, and no simple answer to a question served as well as experience.

and he had not made it far before the scent of deer reached his nose; a scent that promised something alive, instead of cold carrion. he was hungry, and thought it prudent to at least test himself now, knowing well that it was what was expected of him. so he turned, muzzle lifted, and followed, scattering the tiny herd of deer when he found it and chasing until he found the one that was the easiest to scare from its fellows.

he found a muted pleasure in this; not in the act of hunting so much as the act of pursuing. and it felt good now, to do what came naturally- to chase, to tire, daring darting bites when he felt he had the moment's opportunity, just enough to tear wounds in legs and hindquarters. he had no desire to test himself against its hooves.

tuhin did not count time in the snow. he measured it only by the steady burn of his muscles as he moved, the way the deer began steadily to slow. his brothers and sisters might have taken the opportunity the moment they were close enough to spring; but he was not a creature made for such strength, and he ran instead, keeping easy pace, just as utterly remorseless.

and at last, his prey faltered and fell.

perhaps she had caught a hoof upon branches or rocks, or broken something upon landing; she barely reacted as they swept down upon her, nothing more than a bleat abruptly cut off by scything teeth. warm blood ran to stain the silversnow fur of their muzzle; thin held her as she bled out, head bent against the heavy weight, casting a greygreen eye out over the long grass.