Winter came and food was starting to become scarce. What little the clan had was stored in packed snow just off from where they gathered for rest and warmth. The lamb heard a soft scurry under the snow and followed it closer towards the food. Eyes narrowed- She leapt and pounced into the snow face first. After much wiggling she emerged with a now very dead rodent between her teeth.
Spring came to the mountains and, though the snow and ice stayed the same, the trees bore tender needles and the hibernating animals returned. Her clan were foraging for hearty briar berries now, but it was hard to find any not already half-eaten. Sharp, young, eyes caught movement overhead. She lowered her front legs and watched until- A LEAP! Hooves hit the ground and a broken jaybird landed next to them.
Summer came, and with it slightly warmer ground. Edible roots were finally able to be pulled from the thawed ground. They were a delicious treat with the hare(and if they were incredibly lucky, the bear) they'd hunted. Only if nothing had eaten them first. The clan was digging, when a hoof lashed out and a satisfying crunch was heard. A beetle, but alone- A scout.
Fall came and laughter and pride filled the air. She'd been too young to join in the big hunts, but had hunted nonetheless. In the process she'd saved the clan's food, and all because she'd caught the things too small for the others to notice. Her parents, as the clan watched on, gave to their daughter a name: Hunts Small Things.