cry a little

The pair waited in relative silence, watching the family mill about, the piglets winding down just as the mother began to grow restless. Although her eyes remained semi-hooded, a pair of lavender slits nestled against an ivory backdrop, she was watching keenly, ears erect, quivering slightly with each change in the breeze, or sound made by the prey. They were about to take part in a complicated dance that could result in spectacular injury. Even the smaller tusks of the sow could cause serious damage if it caught a wolf between the ribs, or deep in the flank.

"Stay close." Was the only additional instruction she offered, before slinking forward in a predatory crouch. She moved, inch by inch, an ear cocked in the direction of the mother hog, listening to her ambling footfalls grow more distant as the seconds trickled away. To keep her mind occupied, she considered which piglet she should aim for, before finally deciding that she would simply pick the closest or easiest one. One per wolf would keep them satisfied until their next hunt, or so Muses hoped for herself.

When the timing felt right, she launched forward, darting through the brush while trying not to make much of a racket. She stooped her shoulders, head lowering and jaws parting as she aimed to latch onto one of the little creatures at the base of it's neck. Without slowing her pace, she clenched her jaws firmly, hearing a satisfying crack echo in the cavity of her occupied maw. If they put enough distance between themselves and the sow, she would likely remain with the survivors of her brood, rather than pursuing them further. Anxious to ensure that the warthog was not yet on her heels, and that Oxide had not lingered, she glanced over her shoulder, breath caught in anticipation.