A human flock runs across the landscape of fields. Thirteen performers in a teardrop formation form a single organism, guided by collective intelligence or intuition. It flows across the landscape of geometric patterns over terrain waves, flows around copses, divides, regroupes, and reunites. It stops at the horizon, rests, and runs on. The contrast between lively movement and the immobile geometry of the landscape. A hunter enters this magical moment. He walks across the field, climbs into a hunting blind, and loads his shotgun. The unsuspecting flock continues its light-footed, aimless journey.