The hunter becomes the hunted

At first Veigar hadn't realized he was being followed. Paranoia was deeply ingrained in him; he had no trust in anyone around him, not wolves nor any other creatures, and he was constantly on edge. Never fully resting, even when he was asleep, always ready to flee or fight at a moment's notice. He no longer knew peace. Hadn't for years now.

Since losing his sight, he depended entirely on his sense of hearing and smell. The most subtle sounds could spell his downfall. He heard the deer earlier that day, an unnamed creature a good distance away from him, seemingly making their way through the plains. Given the lack of vegetation here, the absence of sticks and twigs almost entirely, tracking someone's movements on sound and smell alone was a tricky feat. One he was used to dabbling in, but still admittedly tricky. Occasionally he caught wind of the deer, close and seemingly not moving further away.

Wasn't it afraid of him? Given the natural order of things, it should've been.

It'd been a long time since he'd eaten anything substantial like deer, and his body was proof of it, his ribs protruding slightly to indicate he was not well fed. He salivated at the thought of such a meal. The liquid, tinged neon green, slid down from his parted jaws and onto the grass below. He couldn't take a deer down alone though, not in the state he was in now, and he wasn't about to try either and injure himself in the process. He'd really be no good for anyone if something like that happened to him.

The scent followed him, circling him like a storm cloud, unwilling to let up. Taunting him. At least that was how he felt with the way his stomach rumbled in protest at a meal it could not have. The prey's insistence to be close only further agitated the man. Didn't this animal know it was wandering into a wolf pack's territory? Didn't it know any better?

His annoyance was made even more obvious by the way his luminescent markings let out more light the closer the herbivore got.
Only when the deer's presence was too close to ignore did he realize all at once that he was being followed. His instinct was to run, but he didn't quite know the prey animal's position. Were they trying to ambush him? Surely not. That wouldn't make any sense, a prey hunting their predator…

The sound of hooves against the ground nearby proved him wrong. Whipping his head around and trying to face where he thought the deer was coming from, he was rewarded with an angry noise and a hoof straight to the side of his face.

If he weren't already blind his world would've gone black. Instead the sharp impact seemed to light up like a white firework in his mind's eye, blindingly bright as he felt his body hit the ground hard. The moment was brief though and Veigar tried to catch his breath as he scrambled upright and jerked away from the deer as fast as he could. The ground below, thankfully, was free from obstructions and his toes parted and fought to grip the ground and keep his balance. He swayed slightly, trying to recover from the sudden attack.

He didn't have long to think about an outcome. He could run - but where? He was dizzy, disoriented, and his head throbbed from the hoof's impact. He swore he felt blood trickling down the side of his face, but he couldn't be sure, and he wasn't about to stop and check. He had to act - and fast.

A retaliatory growl ripped from his throat as he threw himself at the leggy herbivore, jaws parting and gnashing wildly as he tried to find purchase where he could. This was not a wolf he could just try to pin down and force to submit, no; he tried to picture what he remembered deer looking like. He couldn't quite get up on their backs, so he'd focus on the legs and try to cripple it.

The way it kicked back as he gripped one of its forelimbs was alarming. Those angry hooves could spell serious injury, even death, so keeping hold of one was of utmost importance. His teeth dug down into the flesh there and he felt himself beginning to salivate again, his body all but begging for its next meal.

It wouldn't go down so easy though. He felt another hoof trying to kick up at him, felt it just barely graze the side of his face as one of the deer's back legs aimed for his face, trying to get him off. Veigar wouldn't let go though - he was pissed, and rightfully so. Another kick landed though, hitting him squarely under his jaw. The impact was enough to force him to release his hind, and in a flurry of fur and kicked up dirt the deer made to flee. He hadn't necessarily won - and he couldn't begin to guess why he'd been being followed by a deer, of all things - but he hadn't lost, and that was enough for him.