chasing regret

It all happened so quickly- he ran into a porcupine hiding in the underbrush during a hunt, earning himself a few quills in his right paw pad. How ironic, seeing he had quills himself. The doe he tracked down was long gone now, and the little varmint ran off before he could kill it- vanishing into an underground burrow, with Zagan clawing at the entrance trying to catch the damn thing.

He’d lost his meal, his paw was injured, and he was hungry. Why. Why. Why. The porcupine was taunting him too- he couldn't see it in the burrow, but he could hear it digging deeper into the earth- trying to escape him.

Anger was starting to well inside him. A visceral reaction really- an overwhelming surge of animosity and hostility channeled toward the unfavorable events.

In his frustration, he started pacing at the entrance of the varmint's den, keeping his right forelimb tucked against his chest.

The porcupine had become a momentary object of his hatred. An object of obsession. He would not rest until his own jaws killed it.

"Zagan Saxe"