Too Much Beer and Bravado

Dómari stalked quietly through the weeping woods, following the scent of blood. Autumn was proving to be an excellent time to hunt. Many prey animals were rutting. This festival of sweat and hormones inevitably lead to blood shed and Dómari had been keeping on the look out for the wounded animals who would make easier prey than the healthy ones. A young two-point but had gotten in a tangle with a much more mature specimen and was dealt a painful loss.

Dómari bent his head once more, nostrils flaring as he picked up the scent. He wasn't going to let this opportunity pass him by if he could.