Bramblepoint With the new day comes new strength

They scattered this way and that, springing forward with ease away from him. Dirge had singled out a plump hare in favor over the one he had startled and gave it chase. Snow did not deter him as he snapped after its tail, only catching it when a moment's hesitation of which side of a tree to go around slowed it. The life he took was instant; he snapped its spine and neatly crushed it between his jaws with a sharp snap. It was dropped for a moment when another sprinted by, but the tawny Winterheart did not offer it the chase. He seized his quarry again, wheeling about to find the she-wolf in the tangled woodland.

He found her quickly in just a few paces and a smile curled the edges of his mouth. A contented growl left him as he adjusted the limp hare—they had done well, both with something to show for their efforts—and his tail swung high and quick, almost congratulatory. Even with the persistant snowfall, they had managed to make their hunt swift. Of course there was the matter of his side of the offer, but he did not speak of it yet as reluctance to let go of his catch dampened the need for words.