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Usually Dreamflight would find herself fishing. She had been doing it all of her life, after all, and there was really no art to that anymore. She would wait with her spear until the time was right or let the aquatic life drift into her nets and traps of their own accord. The elf was good at that, letting things come to her. But this time something came to her on land. And quite unexpectedly! Dreamflight had been practicing bird calls while sitting on a branch just a little above an elf’s height. She had gotten responses, and was even in the middle of a whistling conversation when she saw him. A telltale flash of red alerted the elf that a choice quarry was there, as if he were just waiting to be taken. Dreamflight’s ears pivoted forward (as much as elf ears could) like her canine ancestors’. Her tongue unknowingly licked her lips. The prey, in the prime of life, muscles rippling beneath his handsome coat, walked in her direction on a well-worn deer path. Four strong legs carried him, leaving deep muddy footprints on the trail. He moved as if he owned the whole Holt forest territory. “Oh, this is going to be too easy!” Dreamflight the predator said to herself, watching as he unknowingly walked towards her very tree. By sheer dumb luck, she had just swum in the River and rolled down a steep reedy embankment to help dry herself off. Even her clothes smelled like the surrounding environment, so she would not even be scented. It was simple to follow the prey with her eyes as he was also noble, his pelt gleaming from the dew in the sunlight that illumined him. He stopped, seemingly lost in thought (whatever it was this kind of forest creature thinks about) and Dreamflight softly and slowly whistled like a bird bored with itself. Deep down she didn’t really think she’d get him. When she would go on the very occasional hunt, she would already have company going out, and it was usually the other elf’s idea. Also, Dreamflight didn’t know exactly how she’d actually take this prey down; she really was unequipped. To be honest, she didn’t even know what to do with him if she got him! But now the prey was right there directly under her! At once the wolf in Dreamflight took over her mind. All thoughts stopped. The hairs on the prey’s head and neck rose, bristling. His head slowly turned around, the eyes rising upwards. Dreamflight was still unseen, still hidden by the dense foliage, but she wouldn’t be for long. There was no help for it. It was now or never. The wolf in her won out. She reached a tentative arm out. The prey’s eyes were focusing now, on the branch, cross-eyed as her hand came forward. She miraculously put one finger on his nose.
“BOOOP!” ”Dreamflight!” Windburn yelled in annoyance, ”get serious for once!” Dreamflight giggled hysterically, bounding high (and quickly!) from tree to tree and from branch to branch, all the way back to the Holt, trying not to fall from gleeful lack of breath. A few moments later Greenweave came across his daughter leaning in repose against a tree. He had never seen her look so blissful and even this beautiful before. “Must be good fishing?” he inquired. “Happy hunting!” Dreamflight corrected. “Or trapping, I suppose!” “What did you catch?” “I didn’t catch a blessed thing!” she replied triumphantly. “Well, I did,” she admitted, “but not to have!” “Silly daughter,” Greenweave softly said affectionately, leaving the cryptic statement alone.
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