Ravensblood Forest falling like ashes to the ground

Constantine’s eyes would catch glimpses of Screech every so often – ensuring the youthful silver wolf was not impaired by his hindered sight. He had known the loss of one eye to endanger one’s depth perception – but the boy seemed swift enough and revealed no weaknesses. He chose the role to drive the doe toward his pack mates, and the shadowrunner was quick to take the collaboration to advantage.
 
Between the three attackers, the doe would fall. Constantine made to ensure a quick death once his jaws found purchase upon the doe’s throat, and with a massive shake, he aided his companions in bringing the creature to the ground. The snow was painted red, and the Mayfair allowed his tongue to brush out across his lips, cleaning them before his eyes cast a piercing glance toward his comrades. “Well done,” he rumbled, his shoulders rolling back to stretch out a muscle that now felt stiff.
 
He paused then, nosing at their fallen meal before tipping his muzzle up to the sky – releasing a resounding howl of victory, eager to share this moment with his pack mates. If they could hunt well together, they would thrive.