Failure of a hunt.

Blackfoot

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She nodded, understanding the woman's line of thought. Now... which one? She turned back to the herd, brow furrowing as she tried to decide which one they should grab. Tsk tsk... decisions, decisions. After a search, she finally settled on one near the western edge of the herd. The lookouts weren't directly facing that one and since it was at the edge, it should be easier to separate it out and grab it than if they went for one near the center of the group of deer.

"That one." She whispered, flicking her ears towards the one she'd singled out. "At the edge. White flank." This particular deer had a small splash of white on its left side.

She looked back at her companion. "Get as close as we can? Rush it from each side?" If they executed the plan correctly, they'd both be able to grab it before the sentries' call or the herd's panic could save it. Its throat should be theirs before it even got the time to properly rise to its hooves.

If the plan was all good, she was ready to go.

"Dialogue"

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