The Bracken Woods Night of the Red Moon

The grace of the dark hair went unnoticed as they sped through the undergrowth of pine needles, cones and downed branches. That in itself spoke volumes of Redmoon’s colleague for his senses were sharp as a fox’s cunning and to not sense the passing of Anubis, well it showed Redmoon that he still had much to learn. Not lost on him, the art of stealth was a gracious melody of song, combined with the potential ferocity - it made his fellow one of the deadliest wolves Redmoon had ever come across. The ability to strike unseen, maim and bleed only to vanish again and simply await the target to fall into a blood loss induced sleep, or to come and strike again from a different angle - it was something Redmoon wanted to study and so study he did. 

Shoulder to shoulder they sped effortlessly through the way until the coppered scent of prey wafted in and filled their nostrils. Then at once, Redmoon’s ally vanished from sight. At first concerned, Redmoon wasn’t about to stop now. With prey in sight he crept forward, staying low to avoid a potential wind draft to alert the wounded buck who would surely make flight when accosted. 

Ever so slowly Redmoon eased through the ferns, never easing his gaze from his prey with ears pinned to the fore and nose locked in place, ever sniffing for alterations in the prey’s scent. So far so good, the buck hadn’t even suspected the pair of predators yet and Redmoon edged closer still. A bird behind Redmoon flitted by and the buck looked up, the wolf went stock still, red fur blending with the earthen tones on the ground. He didn’t move even a muscle, not even when a fly landed on his face and crawled so near his eye, he did not blink it away. This was it, the moment every hunter waited for. The moment of camouflage that would spell victory or failure. 

Ahead of him the mule deer’s eyes twitched fearfully, nose and ears flitting about in near panic. Though with no clear threat it slowly eased in emotion and gently limped to the creek bed where it made pithy attempts to sip the life giver’s grace. Redmoon was put directly to the right flank of the target with the movement, a prime location. 

He eased into a pouncing crouch and took a low breath, easing his own anxiety in the moment. Needing a clear head, he couldn’t afford an overexcited attack failing to claim his prey. This needed to be swift as lightning and as effective as one too. 

The wind hadn’t changed, good thing. He crept two more steps and made pause, he sniffed something different. It was his companion! That too was a good thing in that he hadn’t been abandoned. Such was the dark pelt’s silence in movement that it’d taken Redmoon this long to feel him back out. He couldn’t locate him per se but he sensed a change in his stance all the same. Suddenly Redmoon realized this change in scent was the aggressive nature of a wolf coming to the fore. Regal though he may have been, all wolves held the desire for the kill and its smell was pungent to him here. There was no doubt in Redmoon’s mind, the time to strike was now!

He sprang from the fern’s concealment after a short sprint at top speed. When he emerged from the foliage he instantly spotted his short haired counterpart doing the same, lunging for a spectacular strike. The timing in their attack had been near simultaneous as if they’d been in a pack for many years. It only went to show the expertise at work and the acute senses too. Even the slightest alteration in scents had signaled for them to act and they had done so without hesitation. 

Redmoon’s tail cleared the shrubbery when the mule deer sensed the danger and it flinched, hunching low to evade though it failed and the fire brand struck the rear haunch. Pearly white daggers slammed home, tearing hide and rejoicing to the relinquishing of blood and tendon. The bite was deep and sure. Exactly where Redmoon had intended. Flesh parted away and the retaliation was swift, the left hoof of the buck struck backwards and took the red one in the ribcage. The impact was a terrific force and sent Redmoon sprawling with a yip. 

He hit the ground and rolled over, the shock of the hit nearly taking him down a peg though his adrenal glands were pumping him full of vigor, he’d feel the strike later but now he was intent on the kill. Blood filled his jaws and his tongue drank it in along with raw and fresh scraps of meat. It was beautiful, it was intoxicating, he needed more! 

The buck itself, having a lion’s wound on the shoulder and now a deep gouge to the right haunch which had torn tendons and rendered flight an option unable to be found, turned to face his predators. This would be a last stand or so it seemed. While no teeth would come to bar for it, a one hundred and eighty pound animal had strength aplenty and could easily kill with blows like a hammer. Wounded only meant it was desperate. Though now it was Anubis’ turn - Redmoon having caught its attention, the black fur was open to strike. By design? Redmoon continued to applaud his new found ally, he was indeed learning much just by watching.