Battling the world

The part of him that had been waiting for adulations and praise from his father was crushed when none was offered, and shrunk fractionally deeper into his psyche in that moment. The remainder of the golden prince's attention was focused on his sire, and the confidence of his stride as he pushed ahead to survey the landscape around them. Stratum paid keen attention to his father's instructions, glancing occasionally this way and that to see if the pack had gotten any closer. They hadn't broken over the horizon yet, so the upper hand was not yet lost. When his orders were given, the chubby youngster bobbed his head in solemn agreement. That all seemed easy enough. He wasn't being ordered to attack them head on, all by himself. Anything else was manageable. Gawky limbs propelled him through the snow as it grew ever deeper in correlation to the thinning tree cover, searching for the darker brown pelts of the coyotes around each tree he passed.

The raucous yipping reached a crescendo as he came upon the group. Half a dozen, just as he'd thought when he tracked them. Smaller than he was, which was a bit of a shock. He'd seen one or two stragglers near the boundaries of the pack in previous months, and they'd seemed so much bigger. Regardless, he stopped where he stood and waited for them to notice. It didn't take long, and one by one six pairs of eyes turned on the young male. They were painfully silent now, though their bodies quivered with an anticipation of the hunt that he could see even at a distance. Puffs of mist that surrounded their jaws with each breath grew thicker and more frequent as the pack fed on one another excitement for the hunt. Soon their yellow eyes were nearly invisible through the fog of panting breaths that wreathed their faces.

Why he didn't run immediately was a mystery. It took the sudden lunge of the first coyote springing into motion to drive the blond youth into a run, loping back the way he'd come. To where he knew his sire waited to spring the trap. Safety. His own breath escaped his shuddering lungs and exploded into a fine mist around his snout with each heavy stride. Keeping half a mind on his tracks from the clearing, and the other half on the frenzied hunting party that threatened to overtake him at the slightest misstep. And yet. He never felt so sure of his footing in his life, save for this chase. He couldn't help but grin as he led the pack right into the trap, springing straight into the cover of the undergrowth as he passed the looming figure of his dark furred sire in the clearing.

Time for part two. Much slower this time, he kept his horned skull lowered as he crept around the fringes of the treeline to flank the pack that was just now tearing into view.