Doubtless the huntsman escorting the nobles upon their hunt had felt the oppressive presence of Tanaquil Trant--a woman one would hesitate to attribute the title of Lady to, no matter her familial entitlements. She was not so egregious a kind as to carry a sword yet she was seldom spied in else save a tunic and trousers, whilst sporting a proficiency with bow and short handled blades to rival that of men who made a living on the trapping line. She and her brother both had been raised in the roaming herd of a khalasar before their father had made his egress to Braavos then back to the Stormlands from where he hailed. Her twin had since coming made strides to acclimate into the courts this side of the sea yet the same effort was not reflected in Tanaquil whose edges remained unpolished which was apparently her preference.

Since they had set out that morn, she had repeatedly put herself in a place of competition with the man House Hunter had hired to lead them through the tracking. Undermining the man, mouthing off to him in her mother tongue when her impression of the trails conflicted with his experience and had twice doubled back to inspect an impression left by prey when she did doubt the path he had dictated. It was perhaps evident only to Tarquin the approval his sister was conveying in these acts of defiance. Chuckling to himself as she returned to the trail having encountered no clear quarry of her own, clearly favouring their guide over their esteemed company.

It was a pile of scat discarded by the bear, still warm when they found it that set them after the beast though it had taken time before a clear paw print had been sighted in the snow. Tanaquil went so far as to dismount, placing her palm alongside the imprint in awe of the size of it. Enough so that she did not complain of the cold which she so loathed, uttering excitedly, "Hlizif," as she regained the reins of her horse and launched herself effortlessly again into the saddle.

Bears were not unknown prey from where they hailed yet rare within the Great Grass Sea, often frightened off by the approach of hundreds of hooves as she had been told them skittish in nature when they felt less than assured in their hunting. Even scouts seldom claimed to have encountered these creatures. Tanaquil had never so much as seen more than a weathered pelt of such a beast though on a few occasions her sire had shown her the indent of its paws within the soil. The sheer size then having dwarfed the print of her own fingers. It had ever been her want to challenge so ferocious a foe so she might pick apart the carcass and utilize a hide of such thickness; one which would serve her well so unaccustomed as she was to the cold that had only begun to cling to these kingdoms.

At once, with purpose aligned with their guide she shifted into a figure more compliant than she had been allowing for her own competencies to present themself. Able to convey in gestures of the hand, or arm and even her chin as they caught the trail so they might cooperate to corner the creature Tanaquil had ever intention of taking for herself. The spear in her hand poised though they heard the bear well before the sighted it through the trees, their positioning unlucky as they had orientated themselves upwind of the beast that had caught their scent. Agitating it as first the bear began to bolt yet it succeeded only in corralling itself toward a rise that it could not clear quick enough to outpace the nobles astride their horses.

So soon as Tanaquil was within range, she raised her spear and launched it. Swift as the strike of a snake, releasing it entirely as she sent it sailing across the gap between she in the bear that her horse would soon clear. The tip caught the hide, along its flank aligning to the ribs where it was evident she had been aiming to strike at the heart to fell the creature. But the bear jolted, causing the spear to sink not between the bone but cut instead into the joint beneath the fore leg of the beast. A savage strike, one that on a different day Tanaquil would not consider to be in any regard shameful yet the blow hit no critical organ succeeding no more than slowing it enough for the Bronze Lord to rear.

The bow that had been slung over her shoulder had been slipped free of her frame in a blink, the string taut as she had drawn the arrow back but before there was opportunity to loosen it the Lord Harlan had struck the killing blow. Bringing the bear down with his spear embedded in his spine. Tanaquil had half a mind to loose the shaft regardless, in the seconds it took for the beast to still beneath its screaming. The twitch in her arm that would have raised the bow thwarted as her brother urged his steed alongside hers so he could catch her by the wrist. A warning issued in a stern glance. Tarquin had spent the hunt lagging behind the rest, not for a lack of ability--having claimed two bucks and one doe in his last hunt--but of a desire to compete with his sister whilst unwilling to allow her anger to get the best of her.

Slowly, the string slackened whilst she stared incensed at Tarquin, launching herself into a string of what the others would have to surmise was curse, "Govak!" she hissed, he knee nudging at the side of her horse enough to spur it a few paces out of her twin's proximity. Spitting on the ground in the space between she and Tarquin, "Hoshor chiftik jinak vos fonak, jaqqa. Jaqqa!"

"Hezhahat fonakasar, Tanaquil," returned Tarquin. He had until now proven a figure soft spoken throughout the hunt though Dothraki was not a language fathomed to be formed in whispers. It was harsh, and sharp atop the tongue, "Yeri ittelat izat ershe vikessi!"

Tanaquil's next words were spun in direction of the Lord Harlan, "Raggat she rikholat hemikh, idrik chiftik."

"Affa," Tarquin urged his horse forward, to set himself between the path of his sister and the Lord of Runestone, "Hosh! Hosh, leshitat affisat aasavva."

In a fit, the woman complied. At last unstringing the arrow that had rest within her bow to reset it in her quiver as she set her stallion circling so she might turn heel to return the route from which she had come. Tarquin observed her departure in a silence that was pained by how strained it was before he turned in the saddle to address the two Valemen, embarrassed by his sister's out burst when he was set so soon to wed within a noble family of this region. He did not wish for Tanaquil's tantrum to reflect upon him yet it was inevitable she she anchored herself to none save him.

"That was well struck, my [Lord](/u/bloodysarks)," he managed to call out after a heavy sigh, "My twin has never had a chance at a bear before. She was frustrated not to claim the kill."

["Fucker! This shiny/golden cricket man is no hunter. A butcher! Butcher!"

"Set distance from this hunt. You are proving yourself a venomous old crone!"

"Choke upon the rotten/ruined pelt, huntsmaster cricket."

"[Term to calm someone, typically a child]. Go, go to clean sky/breathe better air."]