Bitterroot Valley A Strange Kindness

twitch spotting him much before he ever saw her. a good thing, too, considering how hard she’d been staring the past few minutes. his shoulders are loose, head bent over his quarry. he was focused, fully sunk into whatever careful task he was doing.

the pheasant hung heavy from her jaws, feathers sticking out at stupid angles where she’d mauled it in the last moments of the chase. she hovered behind a boulder for a breath, doing that ridiculous back and forth dance of will-she-won’t-she like she had to psych herself up before approaching him.

it’s stupid, she thinks, but the thought rarely stops her. decidedly, she lifts the bird again and steps out from her cover.

and then she’s there, padding up to him with a mouth full of feathers and a far-too-pleased smile. “mine’s bigger,” she said, muffled and terribly proud. she spat a stray plume out, pheasant falling from her mouth with it. “having fun?”