Hunting Is My Game

The early winter day is surprisingly temperate and, with the higher than normal temperature, more prey animals can still be found out wandering the northern reaches.  Dark form slips through the underbrush as the cloudy sunlight finds its way down to lithe form, illuminating the purple on his coat as Ezekiel trails after a group of pronghorns.

Nose works as he deftly stalks around trunks while his paws hardly make a sound. The group of prey animals have paused in their wandering to gather around a small pool of water and quench their thirst. Downwind, Ezekiel comes to stop in a thicket, body crouched low to the ground as his eyes scan the group, finding a nice fat male that would fill the Syndicate’s bellies.

If only he had another helping paw.


"Speech!"