Willows

She huffed, jokingly indignant. "Of course I do." He might've had a year on her, but Malalia'd had her fair share of hunts. She knew the word of encouragement was just that, though. Rolling her eyes, her gaze returned to the grazing young buck, who hadn't moved much from his position on the edge of the clearing. Lucky, too, that they remained downwind; a sudden shift and they might've lost their target.

In the stillness of the woods, the bark came abruptly, shifting the peaceful meadow into a frenzy of movement. Malalia vaulted out from the undergrowth, dirt flying up beneath her paws as she ate up the distance between the target and herself, hurtling towards its right side. The two other deer rushed away from the sound, leaping across the meadow. The third tried to follow suit, but the she-wolf was already there, curving his path towards the left where Cairo lay in wait.

Simple plans often the best. The deer moved predictably to the left, away from Malalia and straight towards the apparent safety of the gnarled willow, and the woods surrounding it. A growl bubbled up out of her throat, and she nipped at its heels to stay the course.