A bat flitted past Torak as he drew an arrow from his quiver. Wolf raised his muzzle and sniffed the breeze. He glanced at Torak, then into the thicket. There.
They crept between tangled alders, Torak squelching knee-deep in black water, Wolf’s big paws making no sound. Torak picked a hair off a twig: course reddish brown. Elk calves are reddish-brown. The calf’s mother must have hidden it in the thicket while she went to graze.
Torak glanced over his shoulder at the lake. Elk can swim deep underwater. She could be anywhere, diving to the bottom to uproot water lilies with her tongue.
Wolf froze: paw raised, ears rammed forwards. Dimly through the trees, Torak made out a calf-shaped darkness.