Bitterroot Valley take a gamble that love exists

she is perfectly attuned to the hunt, lengthy frame gliding in and out of view of the herd. through the sparse trees surrounding the small valley glen, the woman lurks.

it is from there she catches sight of callahan in the distance. her head turns only enough to glimpse his way, a fractal of something gleaning through her silver gaze. but overall, it is unfeeling.

she shows no recognition. the huntress does not let the man disrupt her, turning her eyes back to the trail ahead. she slinks away just as fast, lean body pressing forwards through the iced elements of the plains.

then—

she bursts from her cover in a sharp spray of snow, paws slicing through frost; electrical currents shooting through sinewy muscle as she launches into the open. the doe startles ahead, stumbling into motion, limping hard as she bolts.

a staggered gait, the hunt would be over as soon as it started. and with no qualms from the herd who are all too eager to leave her behind, the fate of the wounded doe is impending.

a swift mercy.