Bitterroot Valley she said it didn't seem like that long ago

Angel startled when a voice spoke behind her. She'd not noticed her audience, and still reorienting herself, was quite distracted by the doe still fleeing from them.

"Miska," she named him in greeting. She'd never seen him before, but his scent was familiar, and his familiarity of address gave her quite the clue that this was the man Elowyn had spoken of. "You can kill it then, if you like," she invited, turning her head to watch the doe retreat once more.

It was slowing, blood loss and shock setting in quite quickly — but death would be much slower. Angel only had plans to help it along once the doe lost its footing. Only minutes from now, most likely. 

Inwardly, she resented the commentary.