Artemis, who was absolutely flirting, grinned wider and jerked her head for Marian to follow.
The trail led them downslope – toward water, was Artemis's bet. The air grew cooler, the earth damp and springy beneath their feet. Artemis picked a silent path through the undergrowth, pausing every so often to examine a pile of scat (fresh, not an hour old) or the imprint of a hoof (a mature blacktail buck, moving at an amble; on the larger end, two hundred pounds at least). It wasn't long before they could hear the rush and gurgle of a stream.
Now, Artemis drew her own bow down from her back. She chewed her lip, considering the wind. The breeze was coming toward them at an angle, but the sun was sitting low in the sky. With dusk closing in, the cooling air would carry their scent down the slope and they'd risk spooking their quarry. She motioned to Marian again before altering course, taking them in a wide loop that would bring them down to the creek bed, while keeping in front of the wind.
The smell of damp pine needles and rich earth embraced them as they took to the lower ground. Artemis led them on, slower now, alert to every sound, every flicker of movement.
After a few silent minutes they got their first glimpse: their blacktail buck, head dipped low over the water. She raised an arm, bringing them both up short. Notched an arrow, and waited for Marian to do the same.
Then she bleated, a pitch-perfect doe sound. The buck raised his head. Artemis waited for Marian to loose, before letting her own arrow fly. She wanted to see just what kind of a shot this huntress was.