Identification danced to the beat of her own drum sometimes, and today was one of those days. Her body carefully placed, watching bison down below, a few younger calves straying away from the herd, eyes flickered between the calves to the middle aged. The ones she had to be careful of, and then a few stragglers, the ones who were older. The ones that probably wouldn't make another winter or season. The woman had to make a decision, the elders were still strong and learned that of predators, while the youngsters were overly protected by the herd.
She would have to make the decision of a life time. When a elder bison called out, already limping. Fic's nose went into the air, sniffing. The scent of dried blood. Maybe one already came to hunt? Or maybe the older bison was already attacked. By it's limp it was possible. And by the looks of it it wasn't one of those limps that go away. No, it was one of those life time limps. She would wait to see a little while longer.
