Buff-a-low

Deimos' ear flicked back at the sound of grass rustling behind him and when he turned his head toward the sound his aqua gaze landed on a fairly unassuming woman of browns with a masked face that framed mildly more interesting green eyes. At least from first glance she didn't exactly catch his attention in any particular way, but as she came up beside him and looked down at the buffalo below, she offered to be the runner he needed to separate the young calf from its herd and that at least made her useful. He assessed her for a moment, wondering if the skill she promised was indeed good enough for the task at hand, but in the end if it wasn't it was going to be her hide on the line so what did he have to loose? "Sure, why not?" he replied after a moment with a slight smirk on his lips. He nodded down the hill a ways where the valley dipped and added, "I'll head that direction. Count to thirty and I'll be ready for you." He didn't need much discussion or planning for his hunts. All he needed was for her to separate the calf from the herd and usher it in his direction. He could handle the rest.

The massive male began to swiftly, but quietly make his way down the hill then, keeping low and out of sight of the buffalo as to not startle them or cause them to start moving away. They were big enough that he doubted that the sighting of one lone wolf would be enough to really scare them off, but he didn't need them getting on high alert either. In the lower part of the valley he found a spot where he could still clearly see the herd and the calf they were after from behind a rock that was sticking up beyond the tall grasses and then he waited, interested to see this nameless woman in action.

"Deimos Medacium"