Accidents were easily staged. Everyone knew hunts went wrong sometimes. With luck her species would learn to avoid her because she was a clumsy oaf. Every family had one.
Fine, she could live with that. The humans she could watch would live too.
Someone must watch her species.
Someone different. Someone who didn’t go with the crowd.
Someone like her.
Someone who hated the sight and smell of blood.
Someone who turned veggie centuries ago.
Someone like her.