Dawnlark Plains kwana-ci

coväh had been running her long before the pale woman appeared.
he’d known the doe’s weakness—the limp, the strain in her flank. it was patience that kept him at her heels, waiting for the right moment, the right break. but then there was white against the snow, swift and sure, cutting into his hunt like wind through pine.
his eyes, bright and narrow, slid to the woman circling. his breath was steady, even now, though his muscles burned. the chase wasn’t done. not yet.
silent, he moved opposite her path, boxing the doe in. it was easy with two. easier still when the other hunter knew how to handle herself.
he glanced once at the woman, catching the flash of her teeth. the fire in her eyes was something familiar—something that stirred a grin, brief and sharp, across his scarred muzzle.
finish it, his tone was low, numic, more earth than air. it wasn’t a challenge. not yet. not when the kill was nearly theirs. he didn't expect her to understand, but the words came too rushed. 
and when it was done, when the doe stilled, coväh would take his share without complaint. there was plenty to go around, after all.