With a nod, the little dame fell into step beside Twitch, slipping into the quiet rhythm of the stalk. Kirain tried to recall the lessons her husband had given her about tracking. Her eyes scanned the faint impressions in the soil, following them silently into the brush. Here, the tracks were clearer, accompanied by scattered droppings. Perhaps the birds had been resting nearby?

She pricked her ears, straining to catch the soft rustle of quails. The sounds ahead confirmed her suspicion. Determined, she crept forward and froze as a flicker of movement darted through the undergrowth. Casting an encouraging glance at her companion, she flicked her head toward the left, wordlessly signaling Twitch to circle wide so they’d stand a better chance at flushing one of the birds.