A Buzzard Among Eagles

ORWYND
everyone who isn't me is an enemy

The snowflakes that fell here were fat and heavy, adding depth to the existing berms and collecting fresh on the paths that have been cleared of snow. The land was rather flat with small clusters of pines that dotted the snow like freckles on the belly of a trout. It was here that Orwynd found himself on his excursion down the coast of the continent. He was in search of a warmer climate and hopefully some companionship along the way. The wolf was eager to navigate the journey as it unfolded before him and take from the lands what was offered.

With thoughts swimming in the clouds that created the sheet that covered the wolf’s back with a blanket of white, the scent of blood brought Orwynd’s attention back to the forefront of his mind. A beat, a moment to observe his surroundings. The screech of ravens, the stench of wolves, the thought of a free meal. An opportunist, the wolf almost instantly bounded into a trot towards the scent; eager to reap the benefits of some other wolf’s hard work. And soon enough he came upon the half-eaten carcass of a small elk.

Waste not, want not. The wolf thought as he scanned the area for the wolves responsible for the kill. He saw none and that was all the confirmation he needed. Orwynd got to work gnawing on the frozen meat and fat, scraping his tongue with his claws when it was coated in fur. He would gobble down a few bites, just enough to tide him over until he could move past these lands and properly hunt. The snow continued to fall, thawing only on the bits of muscle and tendon that was covered in the wolf’s saliva and steamy breath.  Orwynd’s amber eyes darted two and fro, muscles tight as he remained on the lookout for unwanted company.