The distress of the elk almost called to her, and Fiala went very still, ears and tail perking up as she turned her head from side to side, trying to pinpoint the sounds.
Then, in a sudden burst of movement, she was off, bounding over the undergrowth toward the animal. She had never been so far from the grove, a fact she realized only vaguely as she passed a copse of blooming oak trees that she had never seen before.
But she didn't have time to dwell on it too long. She found the elk collapsed by a fallen log. He seemed to have tried to jump and caught a back hoof, sending him sprawling. The scent of blood hung thick in the air and the young fae woman paused, her hooves scratching nervously at the foliage beneath them. Then she steeled herself and moved forward, kneeling at the dying animal's side.
And he was dying. Blood loss and panic had taken their toll, and she could feel the life ebbing from him. Her eyes filled with tears that she hardly noticed as she lowered her head to press her brow to the noble beast's, their antlers clacking lightly against each other. She could feel his heartbeat in his chest, his labored breath, his fear and desperation. She could feel every summer her had lived, every winter borne through with the cows and their little ones, every spring welcomed with joy and trepidation for the year to come.
Fiala smiled. "You have lived well, brave one," she whispered to the massive buck. His breathing began to slow, his heartbeat pulsing in a less erratic rhythm of her magic washed over him. "You have earned your rest," she continued, stroking his neck. The elk sighed, his eyes drifting closed. His heartbeat slowed. "Sleep now, brave one. It's alright. You can rest."
The elk died content, without the fear of the hunt nipping at his heels. Fiala cried as she stroked his thick fur, but she could not say she was grieving, exactly. As much as her fae heritage connected her to the creatures of the wood, she also had lived and seen enough to know that the hunt was simply the way of nature. Predators ate prey.
Her eyes flickered to the spear still lodged in the buck's side and she reached out curiously to brush her fingers against it. Her vision was still a little blurry, and she raised one hand to brush the tears away.
She understand the nature of the hunt, but she had never really seen something like this before.