![[Image: IMG-4962.png]](https://i.ibb.co/ZRCH4krp/IMG-4962.png)
2/5
The agile draw of tawny legs draws her closer, just in time for the man to begin his dance with the doe. She's an old creature; weary glass eyes, old scars. The injury she bares is fresh, and it is not from the man she now hunts with.
Blood paints the snow. A trail and swirl of ichor as the doe staggered. She would not last long, and many times had the opportunity to take her throat and end this dance revealed itself.
And still, the man did not act, instead choosing to nip at the doe's hocks. With a furrow of her brows, Ïkikta finds it odd. She could not understand the desire to tease prey, to prolong their panic.
She dove beneath a flurry of hooves as the doe reared. Slipping beneath its swollen belly, she grabs the doe's right rear hock, wishing for the creature to slip so the kill may be made.

"common" • "lanzadoii"