Crimson Casanova
09-26-2013, 02:19 PM
In the midst of the autumn morning, dew still clinging fresh to the edges of burnt auburn leaves that had fallen, a young male rose, stretching his chocolate pelt out along the crunch of dead and dying foliage as he woke. His grayed muzzle opened wide in a yawn before he stood, shaking the various bits of dust and debris from his pelt as golden eyes opened to take in the world around him.
Times were changing, the heat of summer giving way to a cooler time, leaves changing colors and fluttering down to the earth lighter than a moth's wing on a baby's cheek. A light breeze ruffled through Cronan's pelt, reminding him how ephemeral this season truly was; already it was giving way to winter's icy grip, a subtle chill plaguing the previously warm winds.
Regardless of the change in weather and season, one thing remained constant; he was always hungry. His stomach gave a light growl to remind him of that fact. From his time as a young pup to present day he'd trained himself in the ways of tracking, able to follow the subtlest of trails, even picking up on things so slight as a rabbit's footprint hidden in a mess of leaves. However, he'd not had all that much luck recently. A diet of squirrels and field mice didn't suit a wolf; he needed something more substantial, perhaps a deer or a young moose calf. He'd even be happy with a fawn at this point.
His coat had begun to grow slightly dull, and he'd lost a bit of the weight he'd gained during the summer months. Normally he wouldn't much mind, but winter was fast on its way and he knew he ought to get his fill of food while he could. He'd be stuck this winter in either this area or one nearby, and he knew all too well that large packs lived nearby. During the winter months, he preferred to be as far from large packs as possible; they didn't tend to like loners hunting in or near their territory, and it made finding a good meal more difficult than usual.
For now he would settle for rabbits and squirrels when he could catch them, though he wandered in the direction of the scent of deer. Deer were easy enough to find this time of year; catching them proved the main issue. Muscles rolled under his pelt as he walked, eyes following the ground before him, eying the nearly nonexistent tracks of the herd. He was a bit tired, sleep still caking the edges of his eyes, though the strengthened scent of a possible meal helped to wake him.
Dark-tipped ears perked as their sounds began to reach him, the light crackle of leaves under hooves, the crunch of dying grass chewed in hungry mouths. The crimson red of his pelt wasn't often bright enough to give away his position, but it certainly wasn't natural; he hid deep in the undergrowth, the brown base of his coat keeping him hidden well enough to stalk up closer to the group, eyes narrowing in on a young fawn not far off. He was a lone wolf ? he wasn't positive he could take down a fully grown deer on his own, but a fawn would make a good enough meal to keep him satisfied for the time being.
Slowly he crept closer, careful to avoid the dry leaves that coated the ground, paw pads light as a feather as they pressed against the sun-baked earth. His breath was soft, concentrated on the task and unwilling to make any mistake. He needed this meal; his body was a clear display of that, plainly showing his lack of recent meals.
Once he deemed himself close enough, Cronan leaped from the underbrush that had previously given him cover, merely a quick bound and a leap away from the little fawn. The creature froze for an instant in startled fear, just long enough for the muscular male to throw himself upon it and latch on with starving jaws. The fawn stumbled to the ground under the weight of the wolf, jaws latched around it's thin neck, aiming to either cut off its air supply or snap the bones that held its head. Strong jaws soon heard a snap, and the beast went still; slowly the male let go of his hold. The other deer had scattered, but the fawn would provide a good enough meal for now. Hungrily he sunk his teeth into the fawn's fleshy side, beginning to fill himself with the warm meat it contained; his focus was quickly shifted to the fawn as he ate, guard dropping to his surroundings, not paying quite so much attention to the things around him as the glorious meal before him.
Word Count: 802
Times were changing, the heat of summer giving way to a cooler time, leaves changing colors and fluttering down to the earth lighter than a moth's wing on a baby's cheek. A light breeze ruffled through Cronan's pelt, reminding him how ephemeral this season truly was; already it was giving way to winter's icy grip, a subtle chill plaguing the previously warm winds.
Regardless of the change in weather and season, one thing remained constant; he was always hungry. His stomach gave a light growl to remind him of that fact. From his time as a young pup to present day he'd trained himself in the ways of tracking, able to follow the subtlest of trails, even picking up on things so slight as a rabbit's footprint hidden in a mess of leaves. However, he'd not had all that much luck recently. A diet of squirrels and field mice didn't suit a wolf; he needed something more substantial, perhaps a deer or a young moose calf. He'd even be happy with a fawn at this point.
His coat had begun to grow slightly dull, and he'd lost a bit of the weight he'd gained during the summer months. Normally he wouldn't much mind, but winter was fast on its way and he knew he ought to get his fill of food while he could. He'd be stuck this winter in either this area or one nearby, and he knew all too well that large packs lived nearby. During the winter months, he preferred to be as far from large packs as possible; they didn't tend to like loners hunting in or near their territory, and it made finding a good meal more difficult than usual.
For now he would settle for rabbits and squirrels when he could catch them, though he wandered in the direction of the scent of deer. Deer were easy enough to find this time of year; catching them proved the main issue. Muscles rolled under his pelt as he walked, eyes following the ground before him, eying the nearly nonexistent tracks of the herd. He was a bit tired, sleep still caking the edges of his eyes, though the strengthened scent of a possible meal helped to wake him.
Dark-tipped ears perked as their sounds began to reach him, the light crackle of leaves under hooves, the crunch of dying grass chewed in hungry mouths. The crimson red of his pelt wasn't often bright enough to give away his position, but it certainly wasn't natural; he hid deep in the undergrowth, the brown base of his coat keeping him hidden well enough to stalk up closer to the group, eyes narrowing in on a young fawn not far off. He was a lone wolf ? he wasn't positive he could take down a fully grown deer on his own, but a fawn would make a good enough meal to keep him satisfied for the time being.
Slowly he crept closer, careful to avoid the dry leaves that coated the ground, paw pads light as a feather as they pressed against the sun-baked earth. His breath was soft, concentrated on the task and unwilling to make any mistake. He needed this meal; his body was a clear display of that, plainly showing his lack of recent meals.
Once he deemed himself close enough, Cronan leaped from the underbrush that had previously given him cover, merely a quick bound and a leap away from the little fawn. The creature froze for an instant in startled fear, just long enough for the muscular male to throw himself upon it and latch on with starving jaws. The fawn stumbled to the ground under the weight of the wolf, jaws latched around it's thin neck, aiming to either cut off its air supply or snap the bones that held its head. Strong jaws soon heard a snap, and the beast went still; slowly the male let go of his hold. The other deer had scattered, but the fawn would provide a good enough meal for now. Hungrily he sunk his teeth into the fawn's fleshy side, beginning to fill himself with the warm meat it contained; his focus was quickly shifted to the fawn as he ate, guard dropping to his surroundings, not paying quite so much attention to the things around him as the glorious meal before him.
Word Count: 802