Whitebark Stream I'm swept up by the shape of all the centuries

At once, they were on the move. Artyom held his breath as he peered out beyond the trees to where Dawn and Connor rush at the herd, sending each beast veering collectively in search of safety. He heard their frantic hooves and was sure he felt the earth tremble beneath him with each thundering cloven hoof.

There is worry in his heart for his sterling mate, so early in what he hoped was her viable pregnancy, though reminded himself that she was mostly out of reach. Things would be very different if the injured doe were to realise the danger she was in and turn on the wolves who took chase, but thankfully this was not the case.

When at last their chosen prey was separated and fixed a wide-eyed stare to the treeline, determined to lose the predators who pursed, Artyom shot Daylily a sideward glance. With adrenaline coursing his system, the gilded ranger felt dull to her anxiety, but there was no time to fret. With the weakened deer crossing through the edge of Whitebark's forest, Artyom pounced from his hiding spot with a snarl, jaws parted as he aimed to sink his fangs into whatever flesh of the herbivore he could.

Purchase was made on the doe's lower neck, as she bleated in fear as she reared up at the sight of a wolf she had not been expecting. She attempted to swing away and Artyom, who held fast to her flesh, yanked his head to the side in an effort to force her to the ground - but it was a manoeuvre he could not complete alone.