no sneakier than a cartoon character

The best time to hunt was either early morning or late at night. When the world was just going to sleep or not quite awake was when the prey would peek out, hoping for safety. Maelstrom was learning these things quickly. As he hunted (practiced it more like) he found that most animals despised revealing themselves when the sun was highest in the sky. This was okay by him. He enjoyed afternoon naps while his siblings were out of the den doing what it was that they were doing.

Today was no different. Just as the first birds began to stir, their wings rustling in the nearby brush, Maelstrom's eyes were opening. The surrounding peaks of Fenrir's Maw hid the rising sun, leaving the valley cast in cold darkness. For spring, it was still frigid cold with the highest places still covered in a fine blanket of powdered snow. He shakes off the sleep and slinks silently from the den without a stir from his family. His bright violet rimmed eyes scan the terrain as he follows a thin game trail toward the crisp ocean inlet below.

Sticking to the shadows, he soon picks up the scent of a deer herd. Maybe today would be the day he gets lucky and has a chance to take down a fawn. Lately, he had been noticing smaller hoof prints where the herd grazed in the grassy areas near the water. If spring meant birth then that also meant the potential for an easier meal. Eager to try out his stealthy abilities, the young pup continues to slink through the shadows. Taking painfully precise steps so that not a sound is made, he takes his time getting closer.

"Maelstrom"