Deepwood Weald Lovec netvorů

He was not the only hunter to stalk the deepwood.

Pangur too looked for something worthwhile, a challenge to shake up a bored spring morning. The wolves of Forneskja could have used some meat for the coming journey, though it was not far.
Peachy paws skipped quietly through the forest, birdsong from the treetops building a sweet melody on the breeze, one tuned out as the Náttfari searched for sounds of a more rewarding nature, called on the gods to show her where a bounty lied; the bugle of an elk in the distance, the creaking of trees and rustling of leaves as they blew across the ground.
Her focus was unbroken as she tasted the air, she did not notice the quiet man who skulked through the thicket.