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Sky Stained Red

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Kritanté's Rite of Merit 

Link or thumbnail of import sheet: Proud Golden Hunter 21111
Registered name and ID number: Proud Golden Hunter 21111
Prestige breeder or Pack leader?: Pack Leader 
Handler name: MC 
Class you are entering: Wild Hunting Trait 
Supplementary Items: None
Training images and/or bonus images: n/a
Inbred: No

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The Sky was painted a fiery red as the sun slipped bellow the horizon. The tawny tokotas pelt turned a molten gold in the warm light. His amber eyes, shining with liquid fire in their depths, scanned the horizon as a king would his realm. A slight breeze caressed his face and muzzle, weaving through his thick mane. He took a deep breath, the scent of his prize filling his senses. The poor creature had no idea his death was just upwind. 

Kritanté focused in on the lone buck, the herbivore foolishly feeling confident in his safety out in the open and in the dying embers of the Suns rays. Perhaps he would have been, if only he'd though to look up atop the slope of the hill upwind. Alas, he had not and he continued to gingerly graze the flora of the meadow, unawares of the powerful hunter approaching from behind. 

With ears trained forward, eyes sharp and focused, all senses zoned in on his prey, the golden tokota pounced. The buck started, jumping at least two feet in the air before landing  sporadically, all four legs holding his trembling body at almost painful angles, dark brown eyes alight with fear. Before vice-like jaws could clamp around his neck the terrified deer sprung to life, running away as fast as his turned-jelly legs would carry him. Long, nimble legs ate up the ground, near boundless leaps of faith used to try escape the terror hot on his heels. 

Kritanté's thundering beats sent tremors through the meadow under the stag, reminding the poor creature that stopping, slowing nor merely turning to look behind him were available options - simply run, run for his life, over the long grassy plane that grabbed at his usually nimble limbs like greedy, grasping fingers, over the sporadic clusters of thicket bushes that littered the meadow, ignoring the deafening pounding rush of blood in his ears, the winds bite in his eyes, anything to get away from the danger mere feet behind him. 

It was for naught. 

Stumbling, the stag tumbled to the grassy ground, crying in fear as his body landed with a shuddering thud, rolling over with legs in the air before scraping to a final halt and, with a final Fawn-like bleet, was silenced and stilled indefinitely by the jaws that swiftly clamped around his neck. Birds from the tree boughs fled the scene, none wishing to sick around after witnessing one of the more crueler acts of nature, the setting sun marking the end of one of the forest dwellers' life. For the golden canine, however, the setting sun marked a successful hunt and the promise of a full belly after he'd returned with his prize. 

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word count: 460
Image size
1024x768px 1.77 MB
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