Dawnlark Plains kwana-ci

coväh moved like the wind through the sagebrush, his steps careful, measured. the mule deer had not yet seen him, its ears twitching at the faintest sounds, but it did not spook. not yet.
he lowered himself, muscles coiling beneath a thick pelt dusted with the colors of dry earth and stone. the scent of the deer filled his lungs, mingling with the crisp, cold air of the plains. this was unfamiliar—this was not home. the land of big sky, vast and unyielding. the land of his people. not here.
he exhaled slowly, the plume of his breath curling into the morning light. he did not rush. the deer would move, and when it did, he would be ready. his ancestors watched from above, their whispers carried on the wind.
make the kill clean. honor the life given.
he tightened his stance, muscles shifting beneath the thick ruff of his shoulders. the hunt was not yet over, but it would be soon.

maybe a @Skorpa or @Ayovi eyebrow wiggles