Baird had stepped through the cover of the trees when the first arrow flew, he watched as it hit the injured buck in the flank. He was nonplussed for a moment, the thought tat there could be someone else out here hunting had never occurred to him. He stepped back into the tree cover and crouched down as the second arrow found its home in the deers throat. He watched as the buck went down and a black and white female moved into the clearing, running over to the animal and ending his suffering swiftly. She seemed half starved as she cut hunks of meat off of the deer and hastily chewed away at the fresh meat. Baird was unsure what to do now, he couldn't just expect to be able to take a piece of her kill. She had taken it down fair and square, she was obviously hungry and from the scent that was wafting to him on the breeze told him that she was part of a pack. She would have to take meat back for her packmates and he didn't want to inconvenience her.
He scooped up his pack and water skin, slinging the pack over his shoulder and tying the skin to the band of his loincloth. He stepped down into the clearing and kept a respectful distance from the female and her kill, he did stop a good few feet away and raised a hand-paw "Ripper of a shot." He said, genuine admiration clear in his voice. It was rare for Baird to be genial and polite, his acidic sarcasm put on a backshelf for the moment. He did not want to get in a dispute over a kill, knowing that fights involving food could be the worst. He still remembered the feel of his own brothers jaws around his throat when they were pups, and all of it over a scrap of kangaroo.
He pointed in the general direction of where the herd of deer had run off, "Well, brekkie ran in that direction, I suppose I'd better follow it." He knew with his size the injured buck had been his best bet, but now that he was gone he'd have to pick off a young'un. He didn't mind, that would be enough to feed him, Pan, the two remaining pups and Gelar.
Photo courtesy of pierre pouliquin
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