Silvertip Mountain i was the match and you were the rock

Don't screw it, Ciervo finished as he flagged his tail and set off toward the goat. Saena pulled her lips back into a grimace—no, you! it said—but dutifully pursued him at a lofty trot. For once she swallowed down any insolent comment she could've made with the understanding that he was probably right. She was younger and necessarily less experienced, though like her Naturalist trade, Saena took to hunting like a fish to water.

The goat may not have spotted them yet, but the unearthly silence that preceded the hunt must have made him wary, for his head lifted and his flat nostrils flared suspiciously. Saena paused and drew a slow breath in, waiting for the goat to rise and flee, but it did not. She exhaled even more slowly through her nose and took another step forward, glancing at Ciervo as she did so for his signal.