Blossom of snow

Movements slow and fluid, from afar Seumas could be mistaken for a cat on the hunt. His pale yellow eyes were focused only on the sheep, whose attention had been fully captured by the rocks that had scuttled down the mountainside. He followed the direction of the sheep's gaze with his own. There, hidden mostly behind a boulder, was a young wolfling. The sheep was grazing basically at the midway point between them. Seumas tried to make eye contact with the girl, flicking an ear forward in her direction. If his presumptions were correct, she had made the distraction, and was now in a pretty good position to cut off the sheep if it decided to bolt again.

The sheep ducked its head to begin grazing again. Its delicate horns scraped against the rocky ground of the valley. Now was the chance. Eyes flicking briefly upward to his concealed companion, Seumas tensed himself, then sprung forward. In three big bounds he was upon the sheep. The sheep began to bolt, but not before the hunter's teeth managed to land a blow to its right hindquarters. Still quick on its feet, the sheep stumbled exactly where planned and was fastly approaching the wolfling.