Provide For Thy Family

He was still reeling with amazement at the little forms of his new siblings two days after their entrance into the world. Thank the Darkness his stupor hadn’t ruined the hunt he had gone on after his mother had sent him out. A smallish elk calf that had been born late, and with a crooked leg. It was natural selection at work, and they had eaten well. Now he padded on the trail of a deer that smelled like it had a festering wound. He’d remembered that smell from a lesson his mother had taken himself and Zuriel on before she’d swollen up like… He wasn’t sure what to describe it with. His mother had helped with that hunt, and shown them the wound the buck had gotten from a fight with another of its kind. She had bade them both to remember the smell, and to take down the animals that carried that smell.

He was beginning to flesh out, muscles rippling under his pelt, and with the weak autumn sunlight hitting the guard hairs of his fur, his pelt nearly seemed alive with red flame. He was, unbeknownst to himself, becoming an attractive male specimen, broad shouldered and moving with a lions grace. He nosed a stick, noting the drops of white, nasty smelling gunk with a grimace. His target had definitely passed this way. Ew. He continued on, taking his time. He was close enough to keep his prey moving, but not close enough to panic the animal and send it running, which would tire it, but would also waste his own energy. He wanted to be fresh. He’d been trailing this animal since yesterday evening. Their progress had slowed, and he was considering pressing the animal a little.

He nodded and sped his pace a bit, and ahead, heard the deer start and break into a broken trot. Must have been a leg wound. That meant the deer would be tiring fast. So he broke into a lope, one that would conserve energy, while pressing his target into a run that would damage the leg further, and wear it down. Sure enough, while the pace of the deer ahead picked up, it slowed down only half a mile later, and soon, the deer staggered to a walk, no longer attempting to outrun the young wolf. Regulus approached, breaking into a sprint at the last few feet. He hit the deer squarely in the side, and onto the injured leg, and the deer crumpled under his weight. He finished its life swiftly, using the sharp twisting yank his mother had taught him; one that would break its neck and keep the blood within. As the gleam faded from the does eyes, he dropped her neck and looked around.

Hey, he knew where he was. The valley stretched below, the river winding through. Emerald Valley. He loved the Plains. How wide and sprawling they were, and the patches of woodland that dotted them. But it felt nice to see the Valley again. It also meant he didn’t have too far to carry the kill. He took up the carcass and began walking, dragging the dead animal beside himself. He supposed he was lucky; this deer had been very easy. Easier than most. Her badly injured leg, and the deep infection that had festered in it, sapping her strength, and effectively hobbling her, had been the advantage that had made his success possible. He had left behind his puppish manner of being great and powerful at anything, just because he'd done well. He was humble.