Hunger wasn't the sort to plan very far ahead. Usually, he just planned out as far as his next meal and how he would get it. However, these last couple of months had made him plan his next moves more carefully. As he dragged himself out of the river and onto the shore, he'd begun to reflect on which events had caused himself to end up in this sorry state.
He suppose it started with his stomach. Ever since he could remember, Hunger had a powerful appetite. Powerful, but also specific. He had a flavor palette that made him different from other wolves, for Hunger enjoyed the meat of other predators. So, like wolves hunted down deer and rabbits, Hunger would go after his own prey, wolfdogs and dire wolves, mountain cats and the occasional vulture. He didn't have any artistic talent in hunting, it was a primal act of savagery. When he became hungry, he became more savage and he tended to leave a mess wherever he went. He didn't stick around very long.
Hunger had been sating his appetite on a pair of wolfdogs, his savage, frothing hunger simmering down into a contented calm. It had only been after he had cleaned the blood off his jaws, that he realized that he'd missed one: a small pup hiding amidst a cluster of bracken bushes - barely more than a mouthful or two and he wasn't hungry anymore anyway.
Still... it would be a shame to just leave her here, defenseless when someone else could kill and eat her. Why should he leave a gift for a stranger, when he could bring her along as a snack instead? So, he'd gruffly told her to follow him and that he'd carry her if he had to. Carry her in the same mouth that tasted of her parents. He pushed it from his mind.
They'd traveled together for a while and every time he started to get hungry, he'd look at the pup next to him and snort. Someone so small wouldn't sate his appetite even a little. There was no point to eating her. So, he'd stick her in a hiding spot and tell her to stay put until he returned. He would go out and hunt and return when he was back. Tedious though it was, he would bring her back something too. Something different than his diet: he wasn't inclined to sharing his meals, but he didn't want to have her starving on him anytime soon. Getting even smaller, rather than fatter.
He took to calling her Snack for he couldn't think of a better or more accurate name. She seemed to respond to it more than "Pup" or "You" anyway. Occasionally he'd make remarks to why he hadn't eaten her yet - she was too small, he would have to hunt right after anyway, she was more bone than meat... As if he had to defend his actions to a pup. Perhaps somewhere deep within him, this was his way of acknowledging that he would never actually eat her... that he felt some manner of protective bond for the pup. Guilt perhaps? Or the fact that he'd never traveled so long with a canine before eating them. He wouldn't acknowledge it aloud, at any rate and as their days of traveling continued, he began to ease up.
He protected Snack from harm of others, from the fright that came with a thunderstorm - after proving that his growls could be ten times louder and that was what she ought to be frightened of, rather than some dumb clouds. He fed her and ensured that she never saw how or what he ate. This carried on well for a couple of weeks, before they eventually came into the mountains near the redwoods. Hunger had scented a pack nearby and while he typically didn't dabble in pack wolves, there was always a foolish straggler that no one would notice missing for the first day or so - plenty of time for him and Snack to get away after his meal. He stowed Snack in a hole in the mountain and went down to hunt. Sure enough, he found his prey: a ginger female on her own. He moved into feast on her, but his meal was interrupted. Blast it! He was made to retreat, his hunger blazing as he returned to the pup... only to find a puma at the entrance of the pup's hiding place.
Driven by hunger and a flare of protective instincts - that was his Snack that this cat was trying to steal! - he lunged at the the cat, driving it away from the entrance. Tearing into it and making a proper mess of it, he finally turned back to the pup, only to find a wolfdog female standing over her. More wolfdogs surrounded him. The pack of the ginger female had found them. He tried to fight them off as best he could - tried to get to Snack, to tell her to run and he would find her later, but he was unable to get to her, unable to do more then fend off his attackers. He wondered if this was how his prey usually felt: he had become the hunted now.
He wouldn't let his prey have the last laugh. He wouldn't be killed by their teeth and claws. He took one final look in Snack's direction, before he plunged over the cliff's edge, rolling the rough way down, before plummeting into the river.
Which led him to where he was now, having dragged himself out onto the shore. His wounds stung and everything was so sore. He supposed Snack would be raised with those pesky wolves now, assuming they didn't eat her. The thought of it made him angry, but there was no way he was going back there only to get killed. He lifted himself up and started moving slowly away from the pack and the mountains, deeper into the Redwoods. He would heal and he would continue on his way. He would get stronger and then... maybe he would return, if only to see what became of her.
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