Cricket Creek Bog The world don't speak for us

Frankly speaking, Wraen was a little at loss of, what she was supposed to do, while the rest of them charged forward, scattering the herd in every direction and slowly closing on their target. She did her best to keep up, but with every step sending burning pain up her limbs, she was unsure, how long would she be able to do that. 

A sharp bark from Kiwi - a momentarily confused expression on Wraen's face. What now, where to? Yet, aside from Colt being almost kicked in the muzzle, nothing much seemed to happen that would favour her situation. She did observe, however, that there were fewer herd members flanking the older doe and that it was slowing down a little. Could they chase her out of steam entirely?

Lousy post, sorry. Wraen's useless at the moment.