you said you were lookin' for a fight?

Above his head, the moon hung low in the sky. Its position hadn't moved in what felt like years. Full and sinister, that large rock's appearance had brought with it a fearsome plague that wasn't going away any time soon. Having abandoned any sort of civilized behavior as soon as the whispers began to tickle his eardrums, Gil reduced himself to that of his ancestors. Frenzied, hungry, and unsure of who he was anymore, the large wolf set out on tracking the other predator in front of him. Gone was the notion that he possibly had the balls to take down another wolf and now he had resorted to this.

Careful feline steps left imprints in the snow ahead of him. It wasn't like the mountain lion was harming anyone. But the sores and fungus that grew from its tan body were threatening. Maybe it had been the one to begin the spread of the disease. At least, that's what the voices in his head had begun telling him. With his body low to the ground, ears flattened, and teeth bared in preparation for what he was about to do, Gil crept closer to the mountain lion. From the winds that wafted toward them over the prairie, he could tell a herd of bison was grazing nearby. Logically, any sane wolf would assume the mountain lion was just on its way to going hunt itself.

But Gil wasn't his normal self. He really wasn't being sane either. Without a second thought, as his brow furrowed over the screaming voice in his mind, he charged toward the feline. Teeth began to gnash together as his paws reached out to swipe at it. Unfortunately for him, it had noticed and swung around in time with its own claws swiping at Gil's face. Loud guttural sounds erupted from both of them as they backed away and grew closer, beginning a dance of two predators ready to kill.

"word count: 324/1500"

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