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The light was fading, and Zamiel's hunt began. He craved something to eat, and his desires were not for the plants that most soquili enjoyed. He ate flesh, like his mother and her dark side of the family. It was a trait that some soquili found disgusting, not that he cared what most soquili thought of him.

He followed the game trail, knowing from the scent that it was fresh. This was made by something large, an elk, he thought. It was rare that he came upon an elk and even rarer that he brought one down. They were as large as he was and often equipped with a rack of dangerous horns. They were truly a prey worthy of him, and their meat was delicious. All six of his wings were tucked at his side. He hunted on the ground for the most part, not the air. Following prey on the ground was a much more intimate experience... and a trail was somewhat hard to follow from high above.

The scent was growing stronger now! Excited, he picked up his pace. He could hear something! His blood began to race in preparation for a fight. He was ready, and he was... suddenly face to face with a mare. Surprised, he wheeled away and growled in frustration. He was no cannibal. This was not the meat he was looking for.

"You are no elk," he growled, unimpressed by the smaller mare. "And if you are here, my prey is undoubtedly frightened away." He eyed her, trying to size up her threat. He couldn't tell whether she was a flesh eater or a plant eater, and she lacked the claws that his family all wore. He didn't think that she would be a problem for him if she decided to become territorial.

He raised one paw and then stomped it to the ground again, a typical equine gesture geared to draw attention to his paws and the danger they posed. His two canine teeth always protruded slightly from his mouth, so he assumed she would notice those easily enough.