Mother had always warned him to stick near the packlands for his own safety. But beatings from his father had made Marek stronger. Made his skin a bit tougher. He may have been a Lone, but Marek was not weak in the slightest. He had inherited his father's large size, and his mother's lean body. All in all, Marek had to admit that he wasn't such a bad-looking wolf. He had also inherited his father's charming personality. At least, that's what his mother Piper always told him.
Wait.
What was that sound?
Mar's ears pricked up, and all of his attention was focused on the damp, dewey bushels around him. A section of small leaves were shuddering, fawn-colored fur could just be seen through the tiny seperations between them. It was rather quiet tonight in the forest, so there was no difficulty picking out the sounds from other, less interesting noises. A deep inhale let Marek know that the one producing the soft rustling within the bushes was indeed a rabbit.
Yum. His stomach growled, evolving up his spine into his throat. The poor rabbit never saw Marek coming. The tender flesh was between his strong jaws before it had a chance of escape.
He ate.
Lungaia was bored.