Dragoncrest Cliffs return of the pistolero

haunt was palpably thrilled by the hunt. the obsidian kept the bulk of her attention trained to the delicate deadly dance delivered by she and the doe; two steps, sideways, backward, forward. all the while the scent of deerblood grew thick and rich in the air, hunger lending itself to her more pointed attacks.
the girl's fur, stained with red; their quarry had kicked. erzulie glanced from her eye-corner, but her duty fell to the kill. njord's powerful young body pinned the struggling creature to the crimson-smeared drifts, and the harlot lunged gracefully for its throat. 
she bore it to the ground and waited until its airway had succumbed beneath her jaws, and the deer beneath the might of the pack wolves.
panting, erzulie unlatched her jaws from the bitten flesh and looked toward haunt, pride mingling with concern. "are you hurt?"