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*Lark* · 11-30-2015, 03:26 PM

It wasn't exactly the best weather for hunting. The air was brutally frigid - it seemed a cold front had moved in from the north, and while snow was rare here, it could've very well been the arctic as far as Lark was concerned. He shivered slightly as a gust of wind hit him square in the face. Wrinkling his nose, he would continue onward. He'd caught a whiff of a particular scent, and he wasn't terribly inclined to lose it now.

A bit, fat hare sounded absolutely amazing right now. Hunger gnawed irritatingly at his belly, and he was eager to soothe it. Carefully he would stalk through what was left of the dead grasses of the plains, moving with the stealth of a feline - or so he thought, while he sniffed at the ground below him, intent on finding his meal soon.

(Hunting some hares; anyone can join!)

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