You almost catch your bare shin on a thorny vine mounted against pinewood bark, but your work proves fruitful. You stand in the middle of a small clearing, watching the back side of the animal through a gap in the bushline. Is it eating something? Might have caught a hare. Two for the price of one. You hold out your hand and your dog stays back. This kill's yours.

Seems better to crouch, pull some of the sticks of the bushes back to get a better view. Your arm reels back instinctively, you lean back and tilt your torso. This is it.


Throw your spear into it's lung.