Today, Cirilla set off with one clear goal in mind: she wasn’t coming home until she had hunted down something fresh. The caches were getting stale, and everyone had their role to play. So today, she set off towards the hills - the hills would make the perfect vantage point, she thought (or assumed) and though she’d badly sprained her ankle the last time she had hunted anything - she reminded herself that was in a group hunt and she couldn’t crash into her packmates if there were no packmates around.

Granted, of course, being half blind made it harder to hunt as it was - and that’s when she saw it. The little tan hare, from afar. It had stopped moving, in the middle of an open field. Oh! Perfect! Not really. It was too small for her pack, but big enough for a snack, while she looked for a deer, or something, right?

She crept towards it, about ready to pounce on it and then - that’s when it occurred to her that it didn’t have a hare smell and then her eye lingered down on the poor, poor shape of a puppy?

Slowly, her agape mouth closed and Cirilla blinked, tilting her head as she gently prodded him with her nose.