Dawnlark Plains kwana-ci

With a steering-rudder tail Ayovi moves after the herd, mannered gallop vaulting her seamlessly over deep drifts. It is the wolf’s edge under snowfall, where bulky creatures must raze a trail, the huntress flies above it. With this advantage she covers quick ground, towing a garland of snowflakes behind her. The hinds bellow and split but the injured doe lags, her uneven gait hindered. She shrieks as the huntress nears, emotions flying as the ivory grabs a hold of her rear leg to slow her.
Ayovi is excited each time it bellows only to be met by another hail of deadly fangs. She grabs tight and sinks her heels into the snow— releasing when hooves make their splay. A sharp kick slices her shoulder.
The huntress backs off with a low cry, drawing instead a circle around her prey— and inadvertently the man in tawny gold who has come to claim this kill.
Gleaming teeth flaunt then for both doe and man, a wild possessiveness singing out.