Redhawk Caldera Hunter's Furyyyy!

Hotah gave Trailhawk a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching like he might’ve smiled if they weren’t mid-hunt. Talking could wait— this, at least, was something he knew.
If there was one thing he could do, it was hunt.
He lowered himself into the brush, eyes fixed on the trio of deer ahead. His paws moved quiet, practiced… and for once, his head wasn’t full of the awkward mess he’d walked into with Towhee and that brown male, Rodyn. Whatever tension had hung between them, he’d blundered right through it like a fool. Social finesse had never been his strong suit, and the memory still sat rough in his chest.
Hunting was simpler. No guesswork, no misreading looks or tone. Just the land, the wind, and the work.
Hotah slipped ahead, silent and steady, leading her into the stalk.