It was a good time to run. A good day to run, but not even the strongest buck could run forever. He'd left a trail behind him, faint clouds of dry, churned up earth still drifting in the air to mark his passing. Now, though, now he stood atop a hill, watching the world around him. He could see all sides, all approaches, and that was good.
His sides bellowed in and out faintly, moving almost in time with the way the breeze picked up strands of his mane and set them waving back and forth. Something had made his hide itch, deep down under his fur. He only had to stand still long enough to figure out what it was.
