Hideaway Strath It’s crazy what you’ll do for a friend

As always, they followed one another step after step. It’s true, they know each other inside out and Kynareth is always impressed with how well tuned his mate is to him. Hell, he swears she knows him better than he knows himself. She can tell when there’s something wrong with him, she can tell when he’s irritated, sad, happy, horny, whatever have you. If he’s feeling it, she knows. He swears the woman has telepathy and reads his mind. Or maybe he’s just an open book and is really bad at hiding subtle hints of emotion. He believes both options. 

So as they move, he finds the herd, knowing Simmik has the scent as well, they move as a unit. Stopping a good distance away, his eyes scan the ungulates for a smaller, or maybe, weaker pick. He licks his chops in anticipation, ears swiveling back and forth every so often, showing his desire to get the show on the road already.

Finally he spots one he likes. A smaller doe that stills holds the markings of a youngling. They’re very faded, but still recognizable if one squints hard enough. His tail wags and he shifts his body to touch Simmik’s. 

“Young doe — the one on the far left near the buck.” He whispers to her, eyes full of bloodthirsty anticipation, they never leave the deer. 

After he announces their target, he nods to her to follow. He stays low until he’s close enough to get the jump on them, but he’s uncharacteristically impatient. Constantly rasping a dark tongue over his teeth and whiskered lips; eyes zeroed in with dark excitement. 

Without any sign, he jumps into action. Startling the herd probably a bit too early, he commences the chase, knowing Simmik will follow.