Oh My Gaur!

Traveling beneath a canopy of a flourishing, springtime forest, Azoula is slinking and and out of the shadows. The earth-striped fur blending seamlessly with the surrounding foliage, muscles rippling beneath her sleek coat. Her shoulders rolling forward with each step, a testament to her powers and predatory ease. Every movement deliberate and calculated, padding silents through the underbrush, in search of her prey.

A gaur was in the area; a large bovine beast, whose flavor profile was just what Azoula was craving. That beefy richness that coats the tongue, succulent and tender, with the right amount of fat marbled throughout. Lacking that gamey taste woodland prey usually had. Her claws were ready to unsheathe at the thought of it.

Honing in, Azoula is met with the scent of wolves, making her nostrils quiver, snout crinkling in a sublet notion of disgust. Damn dogs. Despite her musings, she’d use the opportunity to make the kill more efficient, changing her course to approach the growing group with palpable interest. The gaur was close by, bedded down in the underbrush, awaiting its death.

Which of these wolves would take the initiative and lead the hunt?

"Azoula Davati"