It was a rare sight indeed to see a young bison all alone on the Prairie. Hattori's gaze roved over the surrounding hills, half expecting to see its mother nearby but it seemed as though the calf was well and truly alone. With not even another member of its species in sight or close enough to smell. A herd of pronghorn lingered nearby, all gathered together and staring at the lone wolf with many sets of watchful eyes. They had the sense to know he had little interest in them, after all why would he hunt them when there were far easier pickings available?

The calf did not seem overly distressed, but there was an obvious sense of bewilderment in the way it plodded along. As though it had never had to choose its own path before. Even if Hattori had not stumbled upon it, the calf would not survive for long on its own. Sooner or later a carnivore would find it and bring an end to its woefully short life. And there was no use in delaying the inevitable, it might as well be Hattori that took advantage of this sad situation.

Stepping down from the hillside he made his way closer to the calf, not even bothering to mask his approach. If the calf ran, he would catch it. If it stared at him with uncertainty the result would still be the same. The creature would die this day.

The boy hadn’t intended to run into his father. In fact, it was almost the opposite. He was trying to be as inconspicuous about it as possible, but he’d been avoiding his sire. The koi Shogun had made his disapproval of him abundantly clear in many ways and it always struck him down to his core. Take was much more soft hearted than his rambunctious brother, who always seemed to be able to take Hattori’s scorn in stride. The glowing princling, however, simply wanted to curl up in a hole and never come out. It would have to be a pretty big hole though.

That day, he was out wandering. Winter had officially come and it blanketed the ground with snow. Had he been born in a normal year, this would have been their first snowfall, but according to the adults the seasons had gone topsy turvy and the summer had been coated in snow instead of being swelteringly hot. To him, with his thick muscle and fur, it was just another day. His jaws, slightly opened as he walked along, puffed out clouds of breathy fog, the bioluminescence within him casting a red glow to it and making it seem as if he breathed fire with each step. His auds were up and alert and, with a sniff, he paused. The scent of a bison was on the wind, by the smell of the milk still clinging to it, a young one. He altered his course, turning from a walk into a jog to try and get there before another carnivore. He crested the hill and, to his surprise, he wasn’t the first to arrive. Even more surprising was that his father was the other.

He hesitated for a moment before offering a low, short howl across the prairie. Normally he’d be more careful, but with the sure steps of his sire and how he was failing to be sneaky, he knew he was just as confident as him that he could take the calf alone. But still, two was better than one and even a calf could be several hundred pounds. It would be easier to transport back to Ashen with them both at the task. After his howl cut off, the calf was now panicked. He released a bleat, a call to its parents which were nowhere to be seen or smelled, and the prince took off into a run. He approached from the side opposite his father, knowing they would be able to corner it more easily that way.

"Thoughts/expression intention"

Hattori was somewhat surprised to see his youngest son join him for the hunt. He could not say he approved of his behaviour-or lack of it- as of late, but seeing him out here intending to hunt was certainly better than him lurking around the palace grounds. He was almost a yearling, just a few months off now, and was already lagging far behind his siblings in terms of skill. If he wished to keep pace with the rest than he would do well to keep up these sorts of ventures, to push himself hard to fall back into line.

Allowing his son to take the lead on this hunt, Hattori fell into a steady rhythm as he ran, paws thudding as they gave chase to the panicked calf from the other side. It could cry out as much as it wanted, no one was here to save it. How would the boy want to approach this hunt? Run it down till it had no energy left? It was a sound tactic, one that had served wolves well for countless generations.

His father was quick to fall in with his plan, of which he had no doubt he would. The man was nothing but sharp, his cold silver gaze all knowing and all seeing. It could cut anyone right down the bone and leave them a shaking, terrified mess, naked in their own minds. He both admired it and hated it.

The calf bleated in panic as they both thundered across the prairie, breaking into a run in order to try and escape them. It was smaller than a full grown bison, obviously, and therefore much more nimble, and as they got closer it began to zigzag and make unexpected turns in order to try and throw them off. He gave a growl of frustration before putting on a sudden burst of speed with a grunt, his muscles aching with exertion that he did his best to ignore. He couldn’t show this weakness in front of his father. The calf made another sharp turn, but to its misfortune it went in the wrong direction and directly across his path. Take lunged forward and sunk his teeth into its hock, feeling the tendons crunch beneath his strong jaws.

"Thoughts/expression intention"

Hattori ran to keep the calf penned in, lest it tried to dash off too far, but for the most part he intended to let his silent son make the kill. He knew the boy was strong and capable, he simply needed to be pushed a little harder than the others. Now he was outside with his heart racing, growl emitting from his throat, Hattori was confident he would improve in time. The Shogun slowed a little, pulling back as Takeshi grabbed a hold of the calf's leg and delivered a crunching bite, his ears flicked forward at the sound, noting even if the creature escaped it would likely never be able to walk on that limb again. Not as if either of the Ashen wolves would let it come to that.

Hattori stepped forward and with a shove of his front paw he shoved the calf down, so the boy could make a clean and easy kill. Throat right there waiting to be pierced.

Once his jaws effectively crushed the hock of the calf, the boy knew it was game over for the calf. Mother Nature was unforgiving and the first strike she’d set against the young Bison had been getting it separated from its mother. The second would be if they were to allow the calf to run free, or rather hobble free. It wouldn’t survive the day with the injury, he imagined, not with its blood permeating the air for all to smell. It was effectively a sitting duck. The best mercy they could do for it now was to kill it cleanly.

With a shove of his father’s massive paw, the calf fell over with an agonized and panicked bleat. It tried to squirm, but the hold the Shogun had on it was ironclad. Its throat was positioned primly and Take wasted no time in opening his jaws and clamping them over the vulnerable area. Blood burst into his mouth and dribbled out the sides as he severed the carotid artery and the calf thrashed again. He gave his head a few, strong jerks to tear into the windpipe before clamping down once more. After a few moments the deed was done, having effectively suffocated their prey and allowing it to bleed out. He released his hold and stepped back, pink tongue dipping out to lick the blood from his lips, though it did little good considering his entire chest was coated and dripping in the liquid. He looked to his sire for instructions.

"Thoughts/expression intention"