Duskfire Glacier Birds of a feather

She scented them--caribou--upwind. Close enough, though they’d still need to travel a bit. As long as the wind held, they were hidden.

Caribou had sharp noses, able to catch even the faintest trace of a predator on the breeze. One whiff, and the herd would scatter, ruining the hunt.

And in this, she could not--no, would not--fail.

Her gaze slid to the bear of a woman who was flanking the other with steps measured and silent. Ice sharpened in her eyes, dagger-like, as she stared into her executioner’s back. The message had been clear before: fail, and punishment would follow. Severe injury, maybe death.

Neither would happen--not by any male, nor any female. She would see to that.

Just as the male had spoken, her devil stirred, acknowledging the same proximity. She gave a single nod in response to both voices. Her focus narrowed. Nose low to the ground, paws light over the hardened, frigid, earth, she followed the trail.

The wind shifted and her fur stirred with it.

The bear-woman challenged her. A test, perhaps.

Phoryn bared a hellish grin--and stepped ahead.

Smell their fear, their stench.
Hear their pitiful hearts beating--rapid, blood pumping.
Taste their cries on your tongue

The wind shifted again, and her nose turned instinctively, cataloging the scents that rode its back. There.

The herd had moved, just slightly off course, but they remained slow-moving. Still oblivious.

Unaware of who followed. Unaware of what hunted them.

She glanced at the others, the shadowed side of her catching the light as she looked back. A glint sparked in her eyes—wild, dangerous, predatory. But it wasn’t meant for them.

No, it was for the blood yet to be spilled.

They’ve moved, but remain unaware. We are still hidden. Her voice was gruff, darkened by the anticipation of what would soon follow.

A sharp nod, pointing toward the herd’s new path. There.

She eyed the others, head cocked, as her lips remained upturned. Test the wind. Know that what I speak is true.