For all its terrible cold and dwindling of herds too migratory to be caught in one space for long, the winter is a grace to bless the earth with hints of prosperity. Bountiful in the Fields as always, the fresh laden blanket of white is littered by footprints, scent markers, hairs, ruts, all else remainders of what lingers in the terra. Beyond this, there are silhouettes made striking against the canvas.

Gauthier is crawling on his belly as he rides a ridge up, up, watching a herd of gazelle make their slow venture, digging up the grass beneath the wintry blanket as they move. He is sure to make it so that he is against the wind, frigid as it is as it rushes his peering face, whipping the thick of his mane.

In the noontime of the grey skies they are made small against their harsh backdrop, muted in the haze of persistent snowfall dreary and thin, so he narrows his eyes and watches close. His stomach dreams of feeling whole, rumbling with anticipation._{BG — ART — CODE}

it was sheer luck that drew her to the field on the right side, downwind from the herd and coming up the ridge behind him. elswyth didn't realize who it was stalking the potential prey but she slipped forward all the same, careful step by careful step. in the past weeks she had practiced her stealth, though truthfully she didn't have a ton of it. she did her best, though, using her small size to step lightly up the hill. elswyth barely had to crouch -- even standing she was no bigger than he was when he was crouched -- but she tried to slink as low to the ground as she could all the same. once she had moved close enough she recognized the male and brightened considerably with a too-loud "hey!" realizing her mistake immediately she pressed her ears to her head and looked in the direction of the herd, relieved to see that they had seemingly not heard her and were still unbothered. "s-sorry. hi." she whispered, now, with a sheepish grin for good effect.

image by vyx, code by koi

The sight of her is not an entire eyesore, slinking along the edges of the snowy fields in the shadow of disaster. One doe raises their head and his stomach knots, watching their ear flick forward and back, pausing their glad munching to scan the ashen fringe. Thankfully, whether it is apathy or ignorance, it returns to its grazing and @Elswyth is spared his swift temper.

It is all almost for naught when her eyes alight to his presence, and before she can squeak he is already tensing, coiled tight as a spring. Hey! she says and he draws all the cold breath in his body while his muscles are fire, his eyes rushing from her to the herd once more.

Somehow, by the luck of some dumbed grace, they carry on, kicking and rutting the snow for what sparse remains of grass spring from the wounds.

S-sorry she begins but he sucks an inward hiss of Sssssssssh-, his eyes stead on their lingering shadows.

Some shot short of a blunder leaves them fortunate to not be found; the wind presses against them, smelling of leather and uncut meat, and he licks his lips to keep his mouth from watering. Locked tight and clutching the ridge, Gauthier waits until she draws in closer before he'd attempt to reach and flatten her against it with him, not daring another chanced misfortune. What are you doing? whispered in a near-hiss, he challenges her sense of ineptitude in the face of dinner, for surely hunting was not the answer.

He hoped._{BG — ART — CODE}

she is shamed -- the heat of it rising hot and fast to her cheeks -- but still she smiles. still she puts on a brave face and acts as if everything is sunshine and roses, even when she half thinks he might eat her if she ruined his meal.

"oh! i was just --" a look at the severity of his expression, feeling the weight of his paw as he pressed her to the hillside, and elsie swallows the tumbling words she had been able to share. he did not want a story, after all, he just wanted a simple answe.

she could do simple, right?

"h-hunting," she whispered, with a peek at the grazing creatures and a lick of her lips. "smelled 'em." that was simple enough, wasn't it? right to the point.

bright eyes looked up at him as she was struck with a thought, unable to mask the brilliant smile that slipped back across her too-delicate features. "together?" because that wasn't a disaster waiting to happen or anything. clearly elsie doesn't think so, looking at him as if it were the very best idea on the very best day of her life.

@Gauthier

She begins and stops. It reminds him of youth and lies, fear, being brought before your repercussions with a dwindling courage and sputtering arrogance. Her smile is a beaming ray that does not cut through the cloudy sky of his glare, its weight and chill pressed on, on. His frigid eyes seek an answer still - even if it is one he cannot accept, will not, could not care for. And sure enough --

Hunting. His nose is drawn in rippling lines, brow lowered. She smelled them. Did she, then? And her grandest idea for hunting had been to plod past them gaily as a cub, and to pipe up a warning welcome when it hadn't been enough? Perhaps it was the lunacy of her tactic that hadn't stirred the gazelle after all, perhaps they had seen her pass by and thought, why there goes a silly cat minding her own business. She couldn't be bothered with us.

Something wells inside him that is not entirely kindness, even (or especially) when something clicks behind those crystalline eyes and @Elswyth's smile beams and she squeaks, Together?

No. Says that thing tumbling in his chest. Instead, the murmur of it is a growl with the taper of thunder, and he narrows his eyes cruelly on the space of her reflection like a vice. Can you stay quiet and listen? he asks, and some part of him knows that regret starts to ring in his ears._{BG — ART — CODE}

it was immensely difficult for her to bite her tongue, to not launch in to a rambling tirade about how she had followed them all the way here from the forest. elswyth was quite proud of herself for tracking them as well as she had, even though it was truly a miracle that they hadn't spotted her.

the bright eyed girl expects him to deny her -- most would, she knew -- and so her face all but lights up when he only asks a question in return. elswyth nods quickly, wildly, with a sunshine grin and floppy ears bouncing like mad.

"yes!" hushed, still, showing him that she could be quiet. "i won't say a word." that was probably untrue, but she pledged it to him as solemnly as she could, unaware of just how disasterous this hunt was going to end up being.

instead she watched him extra close, settling down and giving him her rapt attention, doing all she could to show him that she was a perfect pupil.

@Gauthier

The ringing is not enough to deafen the, yes! she strains to whisper through excitement and awe, her eyes beaming. The I won't say a word is much more believable, despite being unbelievable still - but she locks her naivety tight behind an expression of certainty, and she crows the effigy of honesty. He eyes her still for a long moment; as if waiting for more, waiting for sound to come tumbling out of her mouth, baited by the silence that follows her last.

Nothing comes. Despite being slightly impressed that she lets the quiet fill the space between them without a single questioning murmur is a delicate shock, and he shoots her a double-take filled with commination should she consider a single peep.

Beyond them the gazelle are still pressing their noses to the cold snows, making their slow venture across the span of the Fields. The watering hole beyond them is shielded in a gray haze of tender snowfall, but the shadows of more prey - his guess is wildebeest by size and shape - promise a fail-safe should the gazelle kick their heels miles away. What could go wrong?

The wind still favors them supremely. Up the ridge it runs, bringing with it the fresh smell of hide; the frost curls on his whiskers, breath melting the chill on his lips. It means they will keep moving to stay warm - and in moving, see less, think less, for as long as they are kept unsuspicious.

Gauthier's belly rumbles, and a third look is cast to @Elswyth, her face hopeful and cheerful. His cold heart does not move for it; there is only disdain for the memory of her calling over the fields to him as if she were blind to the prey she 'hunted'. Lip twitches, and he is moving to the side, following the motion of the herd. With the nod of his head he makes a soundless beckon for her to follow.

It takes a calculative moment, but his patience proves fruitful: as the herd moves, there is a doe who is always slower to follow. She hides her lameness well. Her head is always kept tall, her walking regimented, but he can see in the way she moves that it is her hip or hind leg that makes her unsound. For it, the herd knows she is weak; they do not care if they leave her behind, and though she is sure to make it back to them with each movement, a keen eye can tell the strain.

There, he says, lowering his body even closer to the ridge, until only his eyes and a tuft of mane can be seen over the snowdrift between the sprigs of dry weeds. He notions to the lame doe with the point of his nose. Are you hungry? The question sounds earnest but it borders an untold threat - listen, listen. When he looks to her it is an expression so severe it could freeze, their crimson-tinge depths surging with oceanic thrill. I plan on eating a belly-ful and having enough to still bring to the cache, he whispers harshly, pulling his head beneath the ridge. So listen carefully. Can you do that?_{BG — ART — CODE}

elsie felt very much like an ant beneath a magnifying glass -- if she knew what a magnifying glass was, at least -- and had to fight not to balk beneath his pointed stare. it was hard and calculating, tinged with enough disbelief that it awakened a fierce determination in the girl. she wanted, more than anything, to prove to him that she was valuable. if she could show him that she had worth then perhaps it meant she wasn't completely hopeless -- no matter what her upbringing had taught her.

elswyth wanted to prove that she was capable and skilled, even if everything she had done thus far had shown quite the opposite. if pressed for an answer she likely wouldn't be able to explain why this hunt was so important, and why his favour meant so much. perhaps, though, it was only because he seemed so much stronger and more impressive than anybody else she had met. he was world worn and intriguing, a mystery she wanted to unravel, and maybe she hoped that he would have a thousand fascinating stories if only she wrote her way in to his good books.

his gaze shifts from her to the prey and back again, and when he names the target she looks more closely. peeking over the ridge at the doe that he has directed her focus to, recognizing the signs of injury and lameness even through her inexperience.

he asks a question then and she opens her mouth to answer, then decides against it and simply shakes her head. no, she was not hungry. even if she was she would not dare try to take anything from him, especially since she could return to her pride and eat whatever was tucked away.

can you do that?

again she wants to answer, to whisper promises and assurances and tell him a story of when she had listened, but elswyth knows such a tale has no place here. instead she bites her tongue (nearly hard enough to make it bleed) and nods, quickly, feeling the bounce of her ears against her head. otherwise she remains silent, even though it obviously takes great effort, and waits for further instruction.

@Gauthier

He was nearly stunned by her obedient quietude - his expression reflected his awe for a moment, before slipping back into its brooding tension, cold eyes scraped over the reflected winter scape. It wasn't that he entirely believed her, but he would trust her for the time being; the strain was visibly immense, the only dead-er giveaway would have been if her eyes were bloodshot.

Beyond, the gazelle each took their time in drawling, munching seconds of sentry duty, their doll-eyed fancy taking one way and the next. About them stretched only snow and equal or greater prey, and the grey haze between all offered some shelter from certainty. Still the wounded fae trailed behind them all, sinking lower on her right hind, a swelling gap in each step.

Gauthier counted their options, calculated their odds. If they played it smart - not with swiftness but cunning - they could find themselves with a reasonable enough bounty. He would let her have her cut, even if she wasn't hungry. But first came business: no one ever satisfied themselves with a mouthful of snow.

@Elswyth was small, and hopefully fast, the same as the prey they stalked now, even the one wounded. She did not show signs of a totally broken or mauled leg, so she still had a chance to outrun both of them no matter how fast they were on her heels. Their endurance is enviable, too outreaching two heavy, muscular beasts.

No, he would have to rely on Elswyth for the magic touch.

He eyed her for a moment with a look of disgruntlement. What other choices were there? If she hadn't been there, he would have only entertained the sport; he would have followed the gazelle for a time until they smelled him or he tired, and he would have to rely on a meager dinner that barely satisfied. But though he trusted her little, she was there, the good wife.

I need you to cut her off from the herd. He whispered tempered, patient. His eyes looked over the small grouping again, their dark heads bobbing, their hooves skipped over each tattered piece of ground. Follow the high grass - there, he pointed to the grasses that trailed around them; though sparse and most rolled over, they would serve as cover well enough. Stay downwind as long as you can. Stay low, stay slow, get close... and chase her my way.

He adjusted and looked back to Elswyth, firmly assured. Go._{BG — ART — CODE}

they were perched higher than the prey, watching them from atop the ridge she had found him on. elswyth looked down, watching the limping doe, waiting as patiently as she possibly could. when @Gauthier speaks she glances at him for a second, but then returns her gaze to the potential meal. her stomach rumbles despite herself, and while there is food back home she will not turn down a good mouthful.

listening as he talks she is surprised that he will place such a job on her, giving her more than her fair share of responsibility in the hunt. a swell of pride rushes through her, puffing out her chest as she pays rapt attention to his every word. still she does not speak, her mouth all but glued shut, only nodding once to show that she understood.

and when he told her to go -- she went.

elswyth was small and slight, she moved easily and silently through the long grasses. keeping low on her belly she trailed along the ridge, parallel to the herd, inching ever closer. it was her plan to move just ahead, so that when she raced down towards them she would be split from the rest. it should have been an easy job, with the widening gap between the doe and the herd, and elswyth could already hear his praise.

beaming with this imagined future she lost focus for just a second -- just a second, and that was all it took. an icy patch on the hill beneath her front paw, enough to cause it to slip under her. elswyth scrambled to maintain her balance, trying to keep quiet, her movements slight.

it was hopeless, and with an untimely squeak of surprise (and panic) she tumbled ungraciously down the slope and landed in a heap. it was, of course, more than enough to sound the alarm. by the time elswyth came to a stop at the base of the ridge they were long gone, and she could only look pathetically up in the direction of her friend companion. her ears pressed tight to her head, bracing for the inevitable anger that would rain down on her.

turns out she was useless after all.