White whiskers twitched at the hint of a warm southerly wind. The very first sign of an early spring that the humans probably couldn't get with their dulled senses. But right now that meant little to the large wolf, what had woken him from a deep slumber beside his Twilight was the scent of meat. The warm, fresh scent of the still-beating heart of a stag. It was odd to catch the scent of such a beast this close to the fort. As he stood and moved closer to the entrance of his den he caught the scent of a whole herd. A feral glint shined behind his eyes as he breathed deep the scent of warm blood. One of them must have been injured. Though that did explain why they were so close to the fort seeing how it was easy to travel the well warn paths of the patrols. The rest must be the loyal herd the wounded led else they wouldn't have dared come so close to the wolves den.
How long had it been since he'd hunted? The hunts had subsided since the last summer and the death of the previous alphas. Never once had he lead a hunt that was certain. Suddenly the idea seemed to appeal great to him, and the scent of the buck's blood was certainly not helping that fact. Orange-red eyes shinning with determination he turned back in to Twilight. Nudging her gently to wake her, certain that she would detect the scent of blood as easily as he had and understand his intent. Ears pricked forward and tail lashing with impatience he trotted to the great doorway between the civilized fort and the wild forest, looking out hungrily.
The night was crystal clear and cold, despite the warm wind coming form the south. The sun had melted much of the snow, but where the shadows had hidden it the tiny crystals shimmered beneath the stars. WoodWhisp doubted that any human would have been able to see tonight, without the moons sliver light to guide their eyes. His own flicked up, no moon shown in the sky. A new moon then, a dark night lit only by the stars. The herd of deer was to the north of them, they wouldn't pick up the wolves scent. It seemed much was in their favor. The dark shadows amongst the trees would hide them from sight, the wind would mask their scent so long as the herd didn't suddenly veer of their current course, the dead ground and patches of snow would make silence somewhat difficult though.
A serenity washed over him as he looked out over the forest, a deep focus. Jovial, gentle WoodWhisp had only one thought in his mind. The warm, sweet taste of blood. But he would wait, he would be patient, until his mate arrived. Then they would call the pack, then the hunt would be on.
How long had it been since he'd hunted? The hunts had subsided since the last summer and the death of the previous alphas. Never once had he lead a hunt that was certain. Suddenly the idea seemed to appeal great to him, and the scent of the buck's blood was certainly not helping that fact. Orange-red eyes shinning with determination he turned back in to Twilight. Nudging her gently to wake her, certain that she would detect the scent of blood as easily as he had and understand his intent. Ears pricked forward and tail lashing with impatience he trotted to the great doorway between the civilized fort and the wild forest, looking out hungrily.
The night was crystal clear and cold, despite the warm wind coming form the south. The sun had melted much of the snow, but where the shadows had hidden it the tiny crystals shimmered beneath the stars. WoodWhisp doubted that any human would have been able to see tonight, without the moons sliver light to guide their eyes. His own flicked up, no moon shown in the sky. A new moon then, a dark night lit only by the stars. The herd of deer was to the north of them, they wouldn't pick up the wolves scent. It seemed much was in their favor. The dark shadows amongst the trees would hide them from sight, the wind would mask their scent so long as the herd didn't suddenly veer of their current course, the dead ground and patches of snow would make silence somewhat difficult though.
A serenity washed over him as he looked out over the forest, a deep focus. Jovial, gentle WoodWhisp had only one thought in his mind. The warm, sweet taste of blood. But he would wait, he would be patient, until his mate arrived. Then they would call the pack, then the hunt would be on.
