That said, it had been slim pickings, Several large forest fowl fell to her arrows, strange cousins of the owl of some description that had two long legs and two stubby clawed arms and atrophied wings, along with long serrated beaks despite their mostly herbivorous nature. A hare or two, and she shot a wolf whose pelt might be worth a coin or two, but the creature managed to tough through its wound and disappeared into the brush. She moved on; soon enough she would have to walk with her kills rather than fly with them strapped to her back and sides.