Phoenix Maplewood look around, leaves are brown

It took a good bit of compartmentalizing, but Murdock did eventually get into the proper frame of mind for a hunt. It was easy to pretend that it was any other wolf chasing the deer into his trap; Murdock's eyes tracked the deer, after all, and not the silver-bodied ghost that ran behind it.

Soon enough, each hoofbeat could be felt shaking the ground. The muddy male tensed, his muscles coiling for the spring, and then - quick as a viper - struck for the throat. Powerful jaws clamped around the deer's neck, causing superficial flesh wounds and deep, unmendable blunt force trauma. The deer did not go down yet, but the process had begun, and could not be stopped by any force of nature, even if he and his brother were to perish.

The male held on for good measure a few seconds more, but when he'd been dragged and buffeted enough for his liking, he released his grip and bailed, only to fall back a step or two to snap viciously at the deer's ankles. One sharp hoof clipped his cheek, but he caught up again quickly enough and delivered a nasty bite to the deer's hamstring before falling back and glancing around for his brother.