Here piggy piggy

Red lowered his muzzle to the ground, snuffing at a familiar scent in this unfamiliar terrain. A sounder of swine had passed that way not long before, recently enough that the scent still lingered hot in the tracks left from their trotters. A brief examination of the tracks showed that there were piglets with the group, and his interest was piqued. "Ah, ach a muc a roghnú??" he murmured to himself whimsically. A piglet would do for a meal, but if he wanted to save the skin for leather an adult would provide him with the toughest skin he could acquire as a lone hunter. He tsked at himself. Thinking of staying here long enough to tan a hide and craft something out of it, are you? He shook his head, though in amusement rather than negation, because it was true - he had never been a wolf who had a particular need to wander, and he was tired of travelling. Perhaps this continent was as good a place as any to settle into. He thoughtfully eyed the tracks again, then gave himself a good hard shake that set the wiry ridge of bristles along his neck and back swaying despite their thickness. Well, if he knew anything about hunting - and to be clear, he did - it was that while a plan was great it would benefit most from directly observing the prey. He'd decide whether to go after a piglet or an elderly, tough-skinned sow when he had the sounder in sight and he could see what opportunities presented themselves. After all, he'd rather not take on an adult sow in her prime if he could avoid it, so what he did take would depend on whether any of them had strayed far enough from the rest of the swine that he could make his kill before an angry mob descended to protect their precious squeakers. Adult swine in their prime were fast, heavy, and dangerous with teeth nearly as vicious as his own. An elderly pig would be slower, their tusks duller, and possibly sickly or with fading eyesight. A piglet was smaller, without the tushes they'd later grow, and too inexperienced to know what to do if they were attacked. No, he certainly didn't want to tangle with one of the prime sows.

He continued cautiously along their trail, ghosting along with surprising grace and quiet for a wolf his size. He didn't want to accidentally pop out right in their midst. That would surely not end well. He gave a purely mental chuckle at that. No, definitely much better to take his time and be alert so he could stop in time to observe them without being detected and quite possibly mauled. As the scent grew hotter in his nose, the sound of rustles, grunts, and occasional squeals came to him, and he dropped into a cautious crouch and crept closer to peek around the bush separating him from seeing the sounder.

The group was larger than he thought. There were several litters worth of piglets snorting around the group, several nursing mothers to accompany them and ready to viciously tear into anyone who dared disturb any of the younglings, and several other sows of various ages from too young to farrow up to too old. His gaze darted around the group. Several piglets were wandering from the group in various directions, and the sows without piglets were likewise wandering in their search for food, leaving him the option of piglet or elderly sow. He thought quickly, gaze roaming around the group evaluatingly, but he had to admit to himself that while the piglets would certainly be easier to kill, he wasn't up to the task of defending himself against FIVE sows all enraged beyond reason by the sound of an injured or dying piglet, and he knew swine well enough to know that's what would happen. They'd not be so protective of an adult and would probably just scatter while he killed one, so although it would be a more difficult kill the end result would be easier.

He circled on silent paws around the outside of the group, careful to go further downwind rather than upwind. Luckily there wasn't much of one - a wind, that is - so his scent was unlikely to get caught by an errant gust and alert his prey. As he circled he drew nearer to an elderly sow who had ventured off by herself as she grunted and rooted among the trees for the choicest food, secure in the knowledge that few would dare challenge a sounder so large as hers. What else could be so large as to kill a swine of her great bulk but a bear, and there was no scent of bear here.

Red grinned to himself at the thought. She clearly hadn't encountered many wolves as large and formidable as a Ruadhri. A black bear didn't have much on him but a set of better claws, and Red's saber-like fangs should make up that lack. But killing was no laughing matter, even if it was necessary to live, so the grin faded into seriousness as he readied himself to spring. A few quiet breaths, shifting his paws to the perfect positions...

Then he sprang forward with a powerful rush that sprayed old leafs and dirt up behind him, and the sow had no time to turn before he had slammed his bulk into the side of her shoulder. His paws went around her neck, dewclaws and paws alike gripping fiercely onto her bristly neck to hold him close to her as she was bowled off her trotters. He didn't want to be far enough away that she'd be able to bring her formidable tushes to bear and rip him up, so he held on grimly as the pair rolled. As he'd expected, her screeching squeals didn't bring the sows to her rescue but rather sent them herding their piglets to safety, though the sound certainly did a number on his hearing.

With them flailing and rolling, Red ended up partly under the sow, still clinging to her neck as he opened his massive jaws wide to give him room to use his fangs. Chomp and the long, thick fangs slid home in her throat, ending her struggle rather faster than the methods normal wolves with their shorter fangs would need to employ. He continued to grip the sow until her struggles ceased before he let go, sliding his fangs from her throat and wriggling out from under her. He studied the elderly matriarch with a serious gaze, then sighed. Her life would not go to waste, but that did not mean he did not regret the necessity of being the instrument of that death. He shook his head, and took a moment to inspect a sore toe - jammed against the pig's shoulder in the struggle, before he set to work. There was much to be done if he was going to preserve the hide and enough of the meat that none would go to waste.

Total word count: 1185