caravan blues

A woman would appear after a few minutes of waiting, eager to help. Morgan chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Course” she said quietly to the other as they asked for their share. She couldn’t eat a whole deer by herself and from the smell of the woman, she assumed they were a pack wolf. “you’ll get your share” If she worked for it, but the piebald didn’t say that out loud. Turning her head back to the herd, she’d ‘hmm’ thoughtfully before launching into a plan. “I’ll follow and harass one of the older does. You come in and begin to separate it from the herd.” This one was slim and agile; Morgan would allow the woman to use her speed while the piebald made up much of the aggression.

“name’s Morgan, by the way” she added into her words. Just in case there was a cause to call out, but the pale woman was in no way obligated to give her name. veering after the herd, she’d walk slowly with hopefully the other woman in tow. She heard no complaints about her plan and decided if the other wanted to contribute ideas she would in due time. Or they could blow through the whole hunt on dumb luck. Either way was good. As the herd came into view, Morgan dipped her head with her body lowering as she crouched. Spotting an old, nearly dead on their hooves, doe she’d grin. No way the stag would waste time protecting such an elder. It was the way of the wild. This deer was on its last life.

Blue eyes scanned for an opening. Morgan darted from cover, snapping her jaws at the elder’s legs. It called out, but the other deer were already running. Trusting her partner to cut off the front of the old doe’s escape, she managed to grasp one of the legs and pull. It kicked out, but she dodged and bit down, drawing blood.

ooc; 1005 / 2500 words "speech"

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