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The setting sun brought a visitor from afar, from a land that Burning Bush had seen only in her dreams. They clung to the shadows, down-wind, as Longclaw had often instructed the younglings, but talented though he was, Burning Bush was still the sharper sighted one. "Come out from the shadows, I am no prey that you can hunt."
From the shadows came the buck. She could smell the piercing dessert wind on him still, hot or cold, reaching to the bone. A wild thing then, Burning Bush knew. When he spoke she noted the slip of his teeth - "Can you be so sure of that?" The eye that peaked out from beneath the wild hair and the bleached animal bone was sharp. Glinting. Untamed. Savage. Ah, Burning Bush thought, so that is your name; how fitting. Sometimes these things just came to her like the MotherFather was whispering in her ear.
"Of this, I can." And still more she knew, though where the knowing came from, Burning Bush could not say. From the MotherFather too, surely, a spark of insight as bright as tinder.
The acha sneered and it was all teeth; he did not believe her. Amused, Burning Bush goaded him further. "I know too, something that you do not. Return, trace your tracks and you will find that which you did not know you possessed."
A flash of flame flared out and licked the hunter's ankles. It did not burn to the skin, no, though his fur singed slightly - a reminder that he'd been touched.
