As the grass rolls

In the sun-drenched expanse of Algoma Prairie, Enyo crouched low among the golden grasses, her sharp gaze focused on the distant tree line. The air was alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and the faint call of birds overhead, but Enyo’s attention was entirely consumed by the scent of deer that wafted through the warm breeze.

The musk mingled with the earthy notes of the prairie, guiding her as she methodically picked her way through the tall grass. Gathering what resources she needed to craft the trap. With each step, she attuned herself to the subtle signs of the herd. There were trampled patches of grass, fresh droppings, and faint hoof prints on the soft earth.

Her heart raced with anticipation, the thrill of the hunt coursed through her veins. She had honed her instincts for moments like this, where patience and precision would lead to success. The midday sun cast long shadows as she continued her crafting, blending seamlessly into the environment, a predator at work in her element.

After her maw was full she would drop the sticks onto the pile of each other. She decided to get to work quickly. Her paws moved as she crafted a snare with expertise. Just the way she had done time and time again.


ROUND 1/6
"SPEECH"