twitch followed a few paces behind, crouched awkwardly, her belly nearly scraping the dirt. she moved with all the confidence of someone who's never learned to hunt solo and still managed to shy away from it in company—too stiff in the shoulders, ears swiveling frantic.

she glanced up only once to catch the set of his shoulders, the way he moved through the brush. it was familiar enough to sting—she wonders now if cole would’ve said anything to fill the space—she remembers that he liked to, because he knew it alleviated her nerves.

ronan said nothing at all. somehow, that was inexplicably worse. i know. she muttered, though it lacked bite. she was being careful—if only because she didn’t want to mess up whatever chance she had at a meal, to save herself from her own discomfort.

a soft rustle ahead caught her ear. she froze, muscles tight beneath her coat. through the split in the thicket stood a doe, head bowed to graze. she flicked a glance toward ronan, a silent question in her eyes. now what?

the girl sidles up to him, near enough that their shoulders brush—it is instinct, a demand for closeness in her vulnerability. his body is burning hot, and with the slightest touch, she is, too. the grass whispers against her ribs as she follows, narrow frame catching bits of burr and seed.

for all her indifference, there was something alive in the way she moves now—a thin line of focus tightening at her jaw, breath slow, eyes cutting from shadow to shadow. survival was a rhythm her body would always remember even when her heart didn’t; it was her only instinct, now.

he speaks as if she is not already a woman grown—if only technically speaking. regardless, she says nothing in response. it was not the process she struggled with, but the execution of it all.

a soft rustle ahead caught her ear. she froze, muscles gone tight beneath her coat. through the split in the thicket stood a doe, head bowed to graze, tail flicking lazily at flies. twitch’s breath hitched. the scent of her—warm, alive, oblivious—carried faint on the wind. she nudges him for attention and points with her nose—there.

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I am SO SORRY this is so late :’) I cleared my pms on accident and missed this one

twitch does not offer a response, but she does what she's told all the same. she disregards his command to sink teeth to throat in worse case scenario—there is too much self doubt to stake their hunt upon a skill she does not have.

the girl moves quietly, weight rolled to the right like he asked, paws placing careful. the doe lifted her head, ears twitching—twitch’s pulse thuds loud in her ears as she pauses, waits. the doe settles again fast, and so she continues.

she moves when ronan does, slow and slanting, keeping brush between her and the doe’s eyes. too close and she’d get kicked, too far and she’d lose her. it is lost still when a twig snaps underfoot, though not hers. the cervidae startles, muscles coiling.

decidedly, she lunge, angling wide to force the animal to turn. better to ronan than into the trees again. it is not clean nor pretty, but it is enough to drive it where she wanted.

twitch's brain was hardly functioning when his shout cut through her—a switch flipped. the girl reeled into focus in a single breath, darting in low to snap teeth around the doe’s leg, yanking hard and sideways the way cole had once shown her. bone jolted. the animal went down in a mess of thrashing and breath.

when ronan took the neck and the body sagged, twitch froze for half a second. don’t let her suffer. she wished that the doe had not had to suffer at all, and yet—

the girl tries not to dwell on it as she steps in, wrapping her mouth around the throat this time. she bit down and held, eyes screwed shut until the struggle faded and the weight went slack beneath her. when it was done, she let go and stumbled back a step, chest heaving. sorry. don't usually hunt bigger game. she muttered.

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hate this post sorry for the lateness ;-;

twitch blinked at him like he’d spoken another language.

the praise felt strange in her chest, almost undeserved. had the bare minimum to survival become something to applaud? she glanced down at the doe, ears tipping back a little as the blood smell thickened in the heat.

the nudge got her moving. she stepped in slow, almost cautious, then tore a strip from the flank—she chewed and swallowed with all the enthusiasm of an oak tree, nodding once. …thanks, she said after a beat, not looking at him.