THE WOLVES WILL CHASE YOU IN THE PALE MOONLIGHT
Drunk and driven by a devil's hunger...
Breathe slipped smoothly in and out of his lungs, turning to mist in the frigid air. He could almost feel the earth humming underneath him. The north, what a lovely place. Harsh and bitter, the very air was meant to make a wolf feel the sting of being alive. Getting to his paws Hárekr shook out his coat, let the subtle whisps of wind wind through the trees and ruffle his fur as he peered out at the brilliant white surroundings. The bi-colored male hissed to himself. He much preferred the night and silently he willed the moon to rise.
Blood. Hárekr's head snapped in the direction of it. The blood was not that of battle, not the blood spilled of his kind but of prey. Háre crouched down in his little depression, curious excitement bubbling through his frame as a blood-stained form appeared on the horizon. He watched it intently, this other wolf with his meal. My, my…. what a glutton…. so much FAT! His mouth was practically watering as he eyed the meal. However, Háre was fairly sated and not really looking to eat more. Instead he contented himself with watching the stranger approach.
As the other man looked down at him Háre offered a grin. The man dropped his catch and offered a wary greeting. Hárekr's tail wagged slightly as he climbed out of the hole. "Hola! Haha, no I suppose not many find the bite of a frigid world to be pleasurable. But I find the air up here has a way of sharpening both mind and fang… that is quite a fine catch you have there. Do you live here?"
