Failure of a hunt.

Blackfoot

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Her stomach rumbled, a nuisance that reminded her of one positive that came with staying with her mother. A constant hunting companion. Alone it was much tougher to bring anything down. A fact she was being reminded of as she stalked a herd of small deer. That always seemed to be just out of range of her and it didn't help that her dark blue fur stood out amongst this landscape. No amount of hiding seemed to fix it and after the fifth time of the herd moving out of range when she circled closer, she was cursing and angrily stomping away. Fuck them. She'd find something else. Anything else. Anything had to be easier than this.

So, she wandered on her way, trying to keep her steps light as she searched for a hare or rabbit. They weren't substantial food but would do for now. It wasn't as if she'd have an easy time trying to get a deer on her own. Not now, anyway.

Perhaps it was fate, then, that she stumbled onto someone with a coat that was similar to her own. The woman was moving further in the distance but a bit more studying of the situation allowed her to glean what had just occurred. She saw the fleeing deer and the she-wolf moving in the opposite direction. One could guess what had just occurred.

Blackfoot might have been a tad bit antisocial but she was logical. Two wolves hunting had more of a chance of success than one. She stood in indecision for but a moment before coming forward and clearing her throat to get the other woman's attention. "Need assistance?" Always straight to the point. Idle small talk was not something she craved.

"Dialogue"

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