sweat, ache, hands shake

She huffs a little breath, still sneer-smiling, and says: "It's tired. I think, dear sister, we could just... overpower it. Circle around, confuse it, and attack from both sides. Left and right." Her voice has gone a little throaty. She can already taste its blood. Hunting is a pleasure of hers, and Auriga knows, too, that she can harvest the kill. She can work on making it into something properly useful. "Don't fuck it up too bad, pelt-wise. I know, I know, but trust me. I'll want to make something of the pelt, and we can't do that if it's absolutely shredded." Of course... she had one more remark.

"We could knock it over, go for the belly." That way, the flesh would be torn asunder but the wider pelt would be largely left alone. Auriga's breath steamed on the air. She knew Yarra was listening to her, and so she jerked her head to the right -- a signal to her sister to travel that way as Auriga herself broke left. She called: "I want to play with it first!" Don't kill it so fast. Let it exhaust itself. Let it bleat and struggle and cry.