Fresh meat a la moose

With no questions from any of the others in the hunting party, the group was off, their mission begun. Saracyn returned his aunt's eager grin while Chade took point, and while the notion of following the orphan vagrant didn't sit well with him, Saracyn at least knew better than to cripple his odds of success or incur his mother's ire by deliberately sabotaging or being insubordinate when his cooperation was required. Still, he made sure he was notably second in line behind the blue boy, staking his position in the group. After all, he and Chade had to lead the charge. Trudging through the dense snow, the multicolored hunting party made their way toward the lake where their prey had been spotted. Their paws crunched the fresh snow beneath them, Sara keeping his body low beneath the tall reeds and cattails to keep his ostentatiously crimson form hidden and out of sight.

They could smell the moose before they saw it, the giant herbivore's musk thick on the air. Its massive silhouette loomed beyond the reeds, dark against the snow as it grazed near the edge of the lake. Moving closer upon it, the wolves were silent hunters, but the bull moose caught a glimpse of Chade's blur fur and turned to flee. Like hell you're getting away...! Saracyn thought with a snarl, and then the chase was on. He kicked off the ground in a flurry of powdery snow, propelling himself like a bolt of red lightning after the moose. Their quarry's long legs gave it a tremendous stride, but it was still slower than the lupines pursuing it. While Chade went left, Saracyn veered right, the fog of his humid breath trailing from his panting muzzle as he raced after their prey. Moose were huge and dangerous, so he knew better than to try to be a showboat about this. He didn't need to wind up dead from antlers to the face or a hoof to the throat.

Saracyn ran along the right side of the moose, snapping at its heels to keep it moving in the direction Chade wanted it to go. Whether they led it into an ambush point or ran it down meant little to the dire wolf, so long as the day ended with a dead moose and a smorgasbord of meat for the pack.

"Saracyn Mendacium"