The stars were bright above as a lone dog made her way through the usual hunting grounds of the Nyota-Wasomaji pack. Some of the other Howlers liked to hunt together, but Mtifu preferred solitude on the hunt. No extra noise to account for, and no one else to worry about. She was made for this—hunting, prowling, stalking… Her body tensed as her ears caught a sound, followed by a subtle scent wafting her way. Pray. A small herd of antelope most likely, or something close enough. While she was not colored for night time hunting, she was still proud to be considered a good Howler, always bringing back food for the pack and never returning from any trip empty pawed.
The grass gradually shifted in height as Mtifu got closer to the small herd. Some grass was tall and thick while other patches were short and looked to be recently chewed upon. As carefully as she could she slunk through the taller, thicker patches, the color of the dying foliage blending her burnt orange coloring into the background, dirt and drying grass blending well into her coat. She had done this so many times. There was no need to capture a lot, one would be enough, and would likely be all she could manage on her own. But, if she could get a young male, just into adulthood, it would be enough to feed a few members of the pack or many of the youths. Plus the night was young; she could easily get a few hares to bring back as well and be in great shape.
Each step was made carefully as Mtifu avoided any twigs to snap or leaves to crunch under paw as she tried to sneak up on the small group of Springbok. Perfect. Most of the other Howlers tended to work in groups, or pairs, it made it easier to take down more kills, but Mtifu always found more joy in doing it by herself. One set of paws and teeth to worry about and no need to worry about trying to communicate mid hunt to set up a strategy. Sure, it may have seemed harder, but it was how she preferred it.
Muscles tensed, fur on end, Mtifu held her breath as her eyes focused, widening in the darkness as she landed her gaze on a young male Springbok, off by himself a ways, grazing lazily one last time before, perhaps, deciding to settle down for the night. She kept low and slowly moved her body forward, always conscious of her position and the way the wind was blowing. She laid in wait, watching the creature and waiting for him to be the most relaxed, the least suspecting.
She crouched low, close enough now to make the jump and attempt the kill, but then the Springbok decided to move, slowly, casually, further from the herd. Mtifu grimaced, but pursued anyways, having to circle around and move further away as she knew the herd might catch her scent if she passed by too closely. Again he stopped and she crouched. Muscle tense and ready to spring her forward. There was no more time to waste in the event he decided to try and move again, she sprung forward, front paws extended and teeth bared in a snarl.
Right onto his back, teeth penetrated through fur and hide as Mtifu made the kill as swiftly as she could. As soon as her growls were heard, the rest of the Springbok’s fled, terrified of meeting the same fate of this poor young buck. It had been a flawless kill, and now it was time to drag it back to the Nyota dens to feed the other painted dogs. But Mtifu felt the rush of adrenaline fading and thought perhaps a moments rest would be good, so she sat by her kill, panting lightly and staring up at the sky.
The bright orbs in the sky tinkled and glittered, like shiny stones in the bottom of a riverbed. They told endless stories and held many secrets about who everyone was and what their destinies held, but Mtifu couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it. To her, they were just tiny fireflies illuminating the dark world she hunted in. But then she noticed one in particular. It seemed to glow a bit dimmer than the other bright stars that seemed to surround it. It looked like an outcast compared to the much brighter stars and Mtifu felt a pang of emotion, of empathy. She was a huntress, a guardian, a worker, in a pack of scholars, thinkers and dreamers. Like that star she had her place and had her role to play, so the sting of feeling different was lessened.
Quickly Mtifu decided she would find a Star Watcher or Tracker, and see if they could tell her the name of that star. The pale brother to all his glowing, glittering kin. The Outcast. ”Maybe stars aren’t so silly after all…” She murmured softly to herself before finally looking down at her kill. ”Either way, this needs to get to the den before it attracts scavengers…” She muttered to herself as she realized the longer she delayed the more likely she would have to defend her kill from other creatures. So with a sigh she gave the star one last look to remember where it was in the sky and leaned down to grab the shoulder of her kill and began dragging it home.
As she pulled it to the watering hole where many of the pack would gather to drink and watched as a few young pups and juveniles rushed over to inspect the meal she had brought. As she looked around she spotted a few other Howlers returning with some kills, a small group had managed to find, and bring down, a waterbuck calf and were happily showing their kill off to the pack. Mtifu simply remained silent and snagged the remains of a hare that had been abandoned when the Howlers had all returned with bigger game and went off alone to eat in silence and think about the star she’d seen and to consider which of the Star Trackers she would go to to see what it was called and what it meant.
Although she still felt much like a loner, Mtifu was mildly happy. She was living how she wanted to live and was free to leave the Pack anytime she desired for whatever reason, but even so they always stayed, or came back. This was where she belonged and where she was needed. Tonight had been good and she was just happy to be helping.
[Word count: 1115, story format.]