Buff-a-low

He hadn't really planned on wandering away from the pack lands so soon, but he had seen the rolling hills that seemed to be home to numerous buffalo on the way to Elysium's lands and the thought of those was just too tempting to completely pass up. He knew that if he did manage a kill on the tip it was likely going to be too large to carry back, but maybe he could drop it off on the door step of a near by pack or maybe he'd just leave it for the scavengers. Who said he couldn't hunt for sport? Every brute needed something to keep the blood pumping from time to time. He might be settling down and becoming a "family man" for all intents and purposes, but nothing was going to keep him from a bit of fun.

He stalked up one of the hills and hunkered down in the thick grass, peering down into the valley below. There was a fairly small herd, maybe a few that had broken off from their larger herd while they stuck around to graze for a bit. There was one calf that was bordering on adolescence and that was what he would make his target. He knew he was a massive wolf so he didn't think it was impossible to at least get a deep enough wound into the young buffalo to bring it down, but getting around its larger guardians on his own was going to be a bit difficult. He hummed quietly to himself as he considered it. It wouldn't be the first time he made a reckless move like that and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but he was sure that his sister would have an issue with him getting gravely wounded right after moving into her pack and taking a mate. He considered it for a moment longer while he watched them, continuing to weigh his chances.

"Deimos Mendacium"