The hunt is on. They gallop over the cold earth, Behrn’s paws thumping richly on the frosty turf. His steps throw up clods of dirt like diamonds and his breath huffs into ice crystals. Overhead, starlight and waning moonlight allow Dama Chasse to direct their course. On they run. They are close. On they run. So close.
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Artwork by Bronwyn McIvor