Filling the Larder [Hunt!]

He was moving carefully along the deer trail, practicing his stalking skills. His shoulder was healed, and new fur was growing in. It seemed more sensitive than the rest of his coat, more readily flaring with light than the rest of his fur, often flaunting blazing claw-marks over his shoulder and the mark on his face. The scarring wasn’t too bad, but he was okay with scars.

He paused as the grass rustled ahead, and lowered himself to his belly, hunkering closer to peer through the grass. It was a rabbit, plumping itself up on low-growing grasses and clover. Winter would he there before they all knew it, and he’d see snow in the west for the first time.

He wasn’t tracking rabbits, though, so he slipped away, wincing as the rabbit bolted away despite his care. Luckily, it sounded like it was bolting for the warren and not toward his intended target.

The target was an undersized first-year fawn. He’d noticed it the other day and decided to keep tabs on it. Unlike others of its age, it was weedy and clearly picked on by the larger fawns, so kept to itself aside from when it was with its mother, who was, herself, rather weedy and small compared to her sisters. He had no way of knowing it, but the fawn he was considering for dinner and crafting leather had been part of triplets, but stood as the only surviving fawn, the other two born dead.

Maybe, he thought, if he teamed up with the hunters, or maybe even just his brother, they could bring down both animals?

So, he made his way through the lands on the trail of the fawn, and, predictably, it was on its way to the stream to drink. It would likely meet its mother there, as per usual, attempting to nurse only to be kicked away by a doe who was past ready to wean it off in preparation for a winter that would already be hard on her without a fawn still nursing off her.

Sure enough, he spotted them both at the stream, and it looked like they’d be there a while, so Ardyn turned and trotted toward the hillock, deciding to see if Coran was up for a hunt. It wasn’t the cream and white brindled boy’s thing and much as it was Ardyn’s, but Coran was still usually game to hunt and help the pack.

When he was far enough from the intended targets, he threw up his muzzle, calling for his brother and anyone who wanted a hunt. Maybe Cairo or Domari would come, too, and lend experience to the endeavor. Heck, maybe even their father would come.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Labhair an Sean-Teanga." ---- "Hear" ---- Think