Even the southernmost territories weren't safe from the grasp of winter. With a solid dusting of snow covering the wetlands, it pushed a vast majority of the migratory birds out of the estuary that was normally full of the feathered occupants. Or perhaps, they were bundled up in their shelters ... whatever that may be. Coran wasn't sure.
Upon entering a crosswind, however, a peculiar scent caught his attention. It was the stench of death and rot. But once the wind shifted again, the scent was gone. Truly puzzling. Weaving his way through the partially frozen marsh, he steadily covered ground toward the direction that he thought the scent was originating. Once he cleared a small ridge, it was then he saw it. Several waterfowl lay dead in the thin layer of snow. At a distance, it was difficult to tell. But he assumed from the nasty odor, they had been there awhile.
After a few moments of hesitation, he made the decision to investigate. With further inspection, it seemed that a lot had been wasted from the slain birds. The cold temperatures had done a fairly decent job of preserving them. But even still, these kills weren't respectful ones. It left him shaking his head as he explored the sight. Fresh snow concealed any tracks that might have been left- he looked. Regardless, he wasn't left wondering for long. A sudden chorus of coyotes yipping erupted from the undergrowth surprisingly close. Just as he instinctually tensed his muscles in preparation, the first few came. Luckily, the terrain wasn't in favor of a quick ambush. While the swampy ground was mostly frozen, there were still some wet spots with remarkable depth. He himself didn't move to approach- spending his last spare moments calculating his advantages. There were only three that approached him. Perhaps there were more tucked away, but he couldn't worry about that now.
The encounter was a hazy one. He made contact with the first one head-on, only to wince as he felt the stinging sensation of tearing flesh as the two others took their holds. Releasing his grip, he faced one of the coyotes at his side with splayed jaws. Grabbing it full force in the side of the neck, he bit to kill. The creatures erupted in cries of agony, and when he released it, that was all the convincing it needed to run. Coran threw his weight to his opposite side in an effort to discombobulate his remaining attackers, taking a hold of one of the coyotes by its profile- as its own jaws were sunk into the muscle of his shoulder. As his own canines sunk into the predator's temple and eyes, he felt an immediate dislodge as it ripped itself away with blood hemorrhaging down its face. When the third coyote realized it no longer had company, it chased its companions to the brush they had come out of.
Breathing heavily, Coran watched the fleeing cowards, trying to make ends of exactly what just happened.
Cooperative