Honeyed Pasture i've got a good feeling; it doesn't happen very often

He follows Wrenn, sticking close to her side so as to not create too much of a commotion atop the overlook. "Easily." Marcus nudges her shoulder playfully with his own before leaving her, to take position elsewhere.

Yellow sights lock onto the fawn as he slithers amongst the surrounding bramble for cover. Launching an attack from a different trajectory would surely help their pursuit, ultimately raising the likelihood of sending the prey into a disoriented panic. Shifting his attention from the intended meal back to the dame, Marcus locked onto those big doe eyes and awaited her signal. He was a cocked pistol ready to release at the pull of her finger.