Kildeer Rest trappings of starlight

forward dated to april 11

qupirruarjuit moves through the forest with the grace of a shadow, her paws silent on the littered floor, fur blending seamlessly with the twilight shadows. she doesn’t make a sound. every muscle in her body taut, focused, innately aware of every movement in the world around her. her nose twitches, jaws part to scent the air. she has been stalking for hours. silent, patient. and the thrill of the hunt has sharpened her senses, pulling her deeper into the wild heart of the forest.
sharp eyes narrow as she catches sight of her quarry: a young fawn, hidden among the brush, unaware of the danger creeping closer. her tail flicks in anticipation, slow and deliberate.
her daughters, now long gone from her side, have never understood the art of patience. they were all too eager, too brash. but qupirruarjuit is an experienced hunter. she slips between boulders like wind through clouds, unnoticed. crouches low, her form merging with the earth, the tension of her muscles a coiled spring. every inch of her is ready. a flick of her ear, a single breath drawn. she’s within striking distance. the fawn stirs, unaware, its head dipping as it rests. she pauses, eyes locked on it, her body unmoving. It’s just a moment, a heartbeat before she makes her move. without warning she explodes from the shadows, muscles propelling her forward in a blur of strength and speed. the fawb squeals, starts to flee, but it is too late. Her powerful jaws close around its neck, and in a single, practiced motion, she hauls it down to the ground. the struggle is brief, the hunt over before it has truly begun.
she stands over her kill with wild eyes, breathing heavily, gaze as cold as ever. she stands possessively over the carcass, tearing into the meat, her teeth cutting through the flesh with expert precision. no need for celebration. no need for pride. this is simply what she does. what she has always done.
as the forest falls back into its quiet rhythm, qupirruarjuit finishes her meal, and for a moment, the hunt is done. but the mountain woman does not rest. not for long. she licks the blood from her muzzle, stands, and prepares to disappear into the fog again. silent, deadly, untouchable.