Whitebark Stream put my hands in the fire, watched my welcome wear thin

He slips closer at the sound of her invitation, his movements slow and purposeful until the sharp crack of ice has him freeze in his tracks. Cinnamon ears swivel atop his head as he takes a step closer, sea salt gaze shifting to find the doe stuck in her unfortunate predicament.

His toes instinctively itch to spring forward, to take advantage of the situation. He'd not had any large game since the quakes and his mouth watered at the thought of tasting deer once more. Mindless on the matter of how dangerous thin ice could be, Xizur turned to cast an uncertain glance in the greyscale leader's direction, curious to see if she would strike or hang back for now.