Blackfoot Forest tinker tailor soldier spy

@Amara - backdated a little bit probably a couple of weeks

The trees had grown thick again with foliage and prey seemed to flight through on spindly legs, eager to have returned to the Teekon Wilds. There was still plenty that needed to happen for the territory to appear fully alive again, but it was far better than when the ghostly creature had first arrived. The fire of his vision focused on a small warren of rabbits who were bouncing about at the foot of a large tree; their hole was not far, but they had several young with them and did not notice the pale form of the brute in the foliage. The thick roll of his shoulders was sign enough that he would move forward and strike, but the ghostly figure did leave pause for just a moment, swiveling his ears atop his crown in case there were others nearby.
 
The man had a steady fear inside of him that the Rosings wolves were plotting, and he would not have put it past them to gather a small group for an ambush – strike at him when he least expected it to happen. There did not seem to be others nearby, so the pallid figure breathed a sigh of relief and lunged through the foliage, parting his jaws. The hares scattered, but not swiftly enough, and he snapped his fangs around the neck of one of the adults with a sickening crunch.
 
Heaving lungs, Kierkegaard dropped the catch at his feet and allowed the scent of blood to fill his nostrils with a metallic tang. Hunting in the thick woods had taken a great deal of getting used to, and so he found himself pleased that he had managed so well. Though he was a creature who had survived through worse, having the strength return to his ragged figure was welcome; it would mean that he would be difficult to take down. But the wolves of Rosings were quiet and they had not approached him, so the brute waited to see what would be planned in their own time. Lowering his skull, he began to tear away at the rabbit.