Bearclaw Valley a dove is a glove that i wear on my heart

Ridge had been perched in the tree for a while, his eyes scanning the area below him. He remembered this spot from when Indra and her sister had been here and Ridge had swooped down, fearing for their safety. Laurel seemed to not be around this area any longer, however, so Ridge didn't think Indra would mind him hanging about.

He had tried hunting in the area, and had been mostly successful. But, when a slight movement came from the dens entrance, he knew he could not pass up the opportunity for a meal. And since Laurel wasn't residing here, he was sure this couldn't be her puppy. 

The golden eagle was still as he watched as it squirmed its way out into the open. Ridge figured this was going to be a pretty easy meal, seeing as how wolf pups couldn't do much at a young age. He spread his wings, and as silent as a ghost, he swooped in, spreading his talons before him as he reached for the pup. His intent was clear: to grab the pup within his sharp talons. He would not be worried about injuries to he may give to the pup, since he was going to die anyways.