Oh ... You thought?

The frigid air stung Xairo's nostrils as he bounded back toward the makeshift den, his paws sinking into the icy ground with each determined step. His heart raced with exhilaration, the thrill of the chase still coursing through him. The shadows of the aspens loomed overhead, their bare branches reaching like skeletal fingers against the dimming twilight. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was lurking just out of sight, a predator whose presence sent a shiver down his spine. As they neared the den, he couldn’t help but hesitate outside- his nose twitching with anticipation as he caught the rancid scent of decaying flesh on the frostbitten breeze. He flashed a silent glance to his brother and sister. Conveying his suspicion- mirroring their own.

And with nothing more than a firm nod, he rushed the den. Inside, the murky darkness felt thicker than the chill in the air. Xairo's eyes adjusted quickly, scanning the cramped space for any sign of the threat that loomed just beyond their fragile shelter. He could feel his siblings at his side, their thin fur bristling in unison as they shared a silent accord of fear. The rancid scent grew stronger here, enveloping them like a suffocating cloak. Then, he saw it. A gaunt figure lay sprawled in the corner, fur matted and riddled with scars. The mangy wolf's ribs jutted out like cracked twigs, and its one good eye glimmered with a mix of hunger and despair. There was no recognition there. And he couldn’t help but feel like they had walked right into its trap.

Word Count: 263
"Xairo Saxe"