To be hunted.

What was it like to be pursued? The fragile woman with a coat of soft vanilla absorbed the vibrant mural surrounding her. The landscape transitioned from lush grasses to shimmering ivory sands, sparkling in the light. Her ears twitched atop her head as her tail swayed playfully around her. The cool waters lapped against the sand as she pressed forward, determined to continue on her path. She shifted her gaze to the birds soaring overhead, migrating away from the frigid lands ahead. It seemed like the perfect moment to hunt, but how would she manage it? She wasn't particularly skilled at catching birds, especially with a hummingbird as her companion—an idea she found somewhat unappealing. Yet hunger gnawed at her, so she remained patient, hoping for the perfect opportunity when the birds might land, thinking that perhaps now wasn’t the right time for a hunt.

After all, the saltwater was harsh against her senses; it had been a while since she'd ventured near the ocean, leaving a slight unpleasant taste in her mouth. Her white-tipped ears flickered as she crouched down, allowing the cool water to graze her underbelly, giving the birds the impression that she posed no threat. They could continue to believe that—why not turn it to her favor? Though her pack had recently hunted and feasted, she didn’t want to appear incapable of providing for herself or pulling her own weight. A soft chuckle escaped her as she observed a few clams opening and closing, the waves dancing beneath the surface with each gentle shift of the water.

The birds soon realized that the woman lying in the sand had no intention of harming them. They lingered a bit longer as others joined them, pecking at the sea life just beneath the surface near her still form. A smile curved her lips, though it didn't reach her emerald eyes. She let out a slow yawn, revealing her canines. Identification wasn’t in any hurry. Why should she be? The pack was preoccupied with each other. For a brief moment, she considered slipping away to tackle a few tasks on her list. With the luxury of time, she could accomplish what she needed at a more leisurely pace. The sun warmed her, while the waters provided a subtle coolness. Meanwhile, the birds continued their little hunts—some succeeded, while others fell short.

Fic observed and absorbed valuable lessons from her experiences. While she may not have been the most skilled hunter, she understood the importance of seizing the right moment when it presented itself. This was precisely what she was waiting for—the ideal opportunity. Patience was essential in the hunting process. Some wolves struggled with this notion; it wasn't that they completely lacked patience, but rather that they needed to improve upon it. Every wolf was required to hone their skills daily to survive and thrive, as it was a fundamental aspect of their existence. The weakest among them were often eliminated more quickly, while only the strong and those eager to learn managed to endure. They listened and absorbed the lessons imparted to them. Every day brought with it a fresh set of lessons, whether one acknowledged them or not. Fic took great pride in learning from her past mistakes and growing from them.

The moment for identification quickly approached. Birds flocked ever nearer to the woman lying there, unaware of her own purpose. Some of the birds were noticeably plumper, having gorged themselves on the creatures that scuttled along the sandy bottom of the shallow water.

Identification rose up soon enough. The fea crept closer, striving to seem harmless to the birds that were engrossed in their feast of ocean life. Suddenly, one of the birds squawked, causing the others to become more vigilant and prepare to take flight. Seizing the moment, Identification lunged at one of the birds but missed. Undeterred, the she-wolf made several more attempts, each one unsuccessful. She could taste feathers on her tongue, shaking her head in frustration. Thoughts raced through her mind as she wondered why she hadn’t succeeded. Perhaps she should have remained still and then pounced on one of the fatter birds? Was her failure a result of having been resting so close to the water before the alarm was sounded, triggering the large group to flee from the cold winds of Auster?

The hunt hadn't gone as she had hoped; success was never a sure thing. She reflected on what she could have done differently—maybe targeting a bird or two that had come closer while enjoying the ocean's bounty. With these thoughts in her mind, she rose and headed back to Boreas and Insomnia. As she walked, a slow, steady sigh escaped her slightly parted lips, and the woman panted from the exertion and the salt in the air. She knew what she needed to do and resolved to make it happen on her next outing. Hunting birds proved to be more challenging than tracking four-legged creatures—except for turkeys and ground dwellers. They could be quite entertaining. Regardless of her recent failure, she reminded herself that there would always be another opportunity—another chance to improve her skills.

Identification