Altair was fast becoming a loner. It had never been the case before. He’d always worked alongside his fellow assassins, often accompanying his brother on missions just for the joy of working alongside someone you could trust. But those days were far behind him now, so distant that they seemed as if they hadn’t happened at all. Now, he walked alone, his paw prints printing in the dust of the plains.
It was dusk, Altair’s favourite time of the day. The sun had cooled, the shadows had lengthened and his dark pelt slunk almost invisible through the gloom. The sky above his head was painted red with the colours of sunset, casting him in an eerie but favourable glow.
Green eyes, sharp and skilled at picking out the most subtle of movements, scanned the plains. As far as he could tell he was quite alone and after another moment or two of cautious steps, he dropped his guard and loped leisurely across the barren lands around him. Behind him his shadow stretched like a ghoul, desperate to escape from its physical form.
Three vultures circled overhead, diverting Altair’s interest instantly. He was male and therefore was not as finely built for hunting as his female counterparts. Hunting had come difficult and scavenging had become his main source of nutrition. The fact that the vultures hadn’t yet flown in to begin their feast suggested that the kill had been recent.
Altair shifted his course and padded towards the thorny thicket where he guessed the prey had been felled.
