Hare. They were, perhaps, the hardest of any prey animal to catch, as far as he was concerned. Speedy and agile, their bodies seemed to contort in their desperate attempts to escape, and more often than not, they did. It was frustrating, darting after one only to find it had bolted down a safe hole - and when he turned around, another would be staring at him, as though daring him, mocking him, and the moment he moved, it, too, had gone back into the earth. Digging them out was a fruitless, tiring process, he had learned early on, and attempting to ambush one was even less productive. He was becoming dizzy and fatigued rather quickly.
Normally, this wouldn't be an issue. He and Loopy would be hunting together, and they would be taking down deer, not hare. It was always easier to hunt in a group. Now, however, there were so many pups, and so many mouths to feed. Loopy had to stay behind in order to watch them, and that left him alone to hunt for - what was it, nine, now? - pups, as well as himself and Loopy. It was becoming harder and harder to keep up with the demand for food, and he was getting hungry, himself.
With a string of low curses under his breath, he stared at one of the holes intently. He couldn't just give up. Giving up meant not only another day without food for him, but also for the pups, and Loopy would be upset if that happened. If he could just stay quiet long enough, maybe one of them would poke their little heads out, and he could quickly and cleanly snap its neck. Then he would just have to catch a few more, and it would be enough for the pups. For now, however, that seemed to be a far off dream, as did getting a good amount to eat for the day. A short growl bubbled in his chest - he was growing tired of hare, and wanted nothing more than to take down a deer, or a pig. That, of course, was nearly impossible on his own, and he was not willing to travel too far from the den site in search of either.
A sudden scuffling below his paws brought him out of his stupor of thought, and he glanced down, noting that he should see a small shadow against the wall of the hole. He hardly breathed as he thought the hare might show it's head. It was several, seemingly long seconds before the sight of ears appeared, and he dove for it, his teeth grazing flesh and fur before coming in contact for cold, hard dirt, and the sound of a high pitched squeal. Small paws pummeled his face and jaw, and eventually, a sharp, resounding crunch echoed through the hole. The paws ceased moving, an there were no more squeals. The only sound left was the soft scurry of the other hare as they fled deeper into their tunnels, and far out of his reach. He pulled the limp body out and dropped it to the ground, the grass tickling at his chest and belly.
He wanted to get out of this field. There was hardly any cover, and it was chillier than it would be, had he been surrounded by wood. He would have liked another hare, yet with a short sigh, he knew he would not be getting one. Picking the body back up, he began to move towards the treeline - maybe Loopy would forgive him, or promise to help next time.
