Redhawk Caldera Hunter's Furyyyy!

Hotah let out a short, pleased sound—half laugh, half breath—as Trailhawk closed in. A smile tugged at his mouth; hunting felt good between them, tight and true.
He drove the flank harder, pushing the yearling where she wanted it, felt the animal falter beneath their coordinated pressure. When Trailhawk came in with her teeth, Hotah moved in to lock the shoulders, weight settling so the deer couldn’t twist free. Together they worked the animal down, practiced and clean.
When it finally stopped, he eased back and grinned at her, dark eyes warm. Good strike, he murmured, voice low. We make a decent team.