Following the Stream up North [PACK HUNT]
10-09-2014, 06:50 PM
The young cripple had done well enough, all things considered. Freyja had stayed on the girl's tail, watching and waiting to see what would be made of Daegmar's command. Interestingly enough, she seemed to respond to the task with gusto. A thirst to prove herself, eh? This was hardly surprising, in a family who would broker no malformations. The herd lay sprawled out below them, milling and grazing, fat and lazy and dangerous. The gilded warrior's paws itched to be off, to charge and chase and end it all with a meal. It had been longer than she cared to think about since her last big kill, since she had had another to hunt with her. She looked over her shoulder at the rest of the gathering, wondering absently what the younglings would make of such challenging prey. It was heartening in a strange way to hear Daegmar sound leery of the bison's strength and ferocity. While Freyja hardly needed another to tell her the world was dangerous it was good to see that her companion was not arrogant to the point of foolishness. Freyja heeded her words, nodded her assent to the darker huntress' plan, and when the order was given to charge she was among the first to propel herself down the slope and into their midst. Her porcelain paw kicked up clouds of dust between the stalks of grass, and she let loose a caterwaul that was both bloodthirsty and ringing. She was larger than some, smaller than others, but she knew the limits of her body and she tested them then. With an exhilarating shift of balance she cut a wide arc, dashing in a line meant to cleave the herd, to startle the oafs into reckless motion. She would divide their numbers and begin the slow process of singling out their target. Fangs would lash out at ankles, drawing blood and taking bruises here and there where she did not dodge quite fast enough. The grazing blows were an annoyance of course, and a reminder that should she slip up there would be no second chances. The demon's savagery continued, her vocal chords straining to make her presence and ferocity known. The ground began to rumble as the herd began to wake and shiver and move. |