Moonspear The line is where the night lies

Touché, she said quietly as she sidled up to flank him.

Her yellow eyes raised to ascertain the herd further along the game trail. Treepie did a quick headcount, her gaze lingering on the imposing ram heading up the flock. One headbutt from him would send a wolf careening down the mountainside. Bruised ribs would be the least of their worries.

I don’t like this angle of attack, Pie admitted to Alaric in a whisper. I also think we should have another hunter on deck before we try anything.

She wasn’t an expert, though, which was the rub: Tiuttuk didn’t think she had the confidence or skills for this pursuit. She wondered if Alaric would defer to her doubts or insist they could proceed. She shifted her weight, a canine pressing delicately into her bottom lip as her eyes flicked skyward to see the bird’s shadow gliding overhead.

Hey, do you know what kind of bird that is? she blurted, nudging the Sovereign and gesturing upward.

Said bird is a common nighthawk, in case he’d know that!