Feather in my Cap

Mask trotted through the long grass of the plains with a loose, sweeping stride. Though he glanced neither left nor right, his ears were in constant motion, flickering side to side to channel sounds to him. Most could be disregarded - the wind through the greenery, his own passage through the grasses, the burbling chuckle of a nearby stream. Others he kept in the background of his mind - the sounds of the songbirds, the distant rumble of thunder. He wanted to take note if the songbirds were suddenly alarmed, and to keep track of the storm’s path, but he didn’t want to focus on those sounds either. It was other sounds he was looking for - unexplained rustles in the grass, the faint sounds of game birds as they communicated back and forth.

He was, after all, on the hunt, and without more of the pack seeming to be interested in gathering for larger hunts he figured he was on his own, which meant small game. Which today, meant game birds. Grouse, quail, partridge, pheasants… The storm front moving in meant that the birds would be out, for the same reason he was. To get enough food before the storm hit to tide them over until the weather was more pleasant again. He didn’t know if any of the other pack members were up and about so he hadn’t waited around to invite anyone along. Though he would welcome the assistance if anyone showed up, he saw no reason to depend on his packmates to step up when most had not yet done so. Besides, if he wanted to move up in rank - which he did - he would have to be the one to show initiative, not wait for someone else to do so.