Halla was pleased that the large prey they'd be hunting was bison. She'd hunted some not too long ago and there were two familiar faces on her team, Aslaug and Wyndelin. She did not know Sunder, nor did she really know exactly what he was, but now was not the time for chit chat. The competition was on. Halla headed out across the dancefloor, trailing after Wyndelin and glancing back to make sure everyone was following.
When at last they arrived they came upon a herd of bison about fifty head strong. Halla kept low to the ground as she peeked ahead at the herd, scouring through their numbers. Her eyes fixed on an old bull with long strands of mucus hanging out its nose. Her ears flicked forward. Speaking low she turned to the others. "What about that old bull? Seems sick. If the infection is in his lungs we might have an easier time running him down."
