Firefly Glen [PHE] silver swords

a hare ran wildly along the edge of the camps, ancelin hot on its trail. despite the number of wolves gathered in one place, the animal's calculation led it to a mad dash through the middle of the glen itself.
naturally the crowds made ancelin draw up harshly, laughing a little at himself, but he continued his now quite-slowed pursuit, a bit awed at the animal's courage.

Kitty was pursuing the hare, too.

He didn't realize he had company until the scent-trail brought him nearly headlong into the patchwork-pelted man, looking eagerly down the road the quarry had cut through the forest.

The boy stopped short, looking awkwardly toward the man, shrinking into himself.

The other wolf carried heavy scent-markings, and an air of confidence that sent Kitimat folding downward in deference, eyes darting here and there. His nostrils still flared, and he waited for the go-ahead; it might never come, since he was late upon the scene.

His orange gaze lit querily upon the Bearclaw wolf, brows lifted along with it.

when he glanced down, a boy was there. he wore a seaside scent and reminded the bearclaw man at once of his daughters. a wave of his tail greeted the young hunter. "are you following that too?" he asked, but had already decided it must be so.
"we have to get around everyone else," ancelin explained. "come on. it's gone that way." he stalked off, glancing back once for the dark-muzzled child.

He was frozen for a moment, mouth slightly agape, as the man spoke. Though he wasn't too much smaller than the average-sized wolf, he was still much his junior—and a stranger, to boot. To add to that, the invitation was more of a command, and Kitimat briefly looked around for his mother or some other Moontide adult.

None were in sight. So. . .

With a shrug, he carried on after Ancelin, trotting obediently at the Bearclaw wolf's flank. The two sped down the trail, skirting past various groups and flitting through the trees. And the smell of rabbit was growing stronger as they went—

The boy gasped quietly as he noticed powerful hindquarters and the unmistakable flash of fluffy white that marked their quarry's backside, moving at pace toward a heavily-thicketed portion of the forest.

encouraging the boy ahead with a chuff, ancelin bounded forward and to one side. his longer legs and greater speed lent him the ability to move neatly into the tangled rookery of the forest, where he meant to catch the rabbit unawares and send it terrified back toward the young hunter.
teamwork made the dream work, as the saying went.
keep going! his indigo eyes glinted as he glanced back once at the boy.

The man's eyes and gestures spurred him forward; Kitimat needed no more permission to surge into the brush, chasing after the hare.

As he ran, he felt the wind of those churning hind legs whirring into his face. He was so close. . .

And with a bound, he seized the hare by one back limb and felt it snap between his teeth;

And his eyes were wide and staring, the quarry limping in his wake, and now it was caught between the orbit of Kitimat and Ancelin, and. . .

Here! Kitimat exclaimed, above the cries of the hare beneath them.

"ah, good job, man!" ancelin exulted. he had stopped to pant; now he congratulated the success of the boy with several waves of his tail. "okay, now bite it again. kill it. it'll kick and get away," he cautioned.
as delicate as rabbits were, the animals were not subdued with a great deal of ease initially. he guarded the potential second race from happening, eyes fixed on the pair while he waited for the kid to dispatch his meal.

Ah, that was it. Kitimat listened with a swiveled ear toward Ancelin, and without hesitation, released the limb and seized the hare by its neck, bit down hard, and shook.

Vertebrae separated and reverberated into his soul.

The animal hung limp from his jaws, and he dropped it, eyes wide, staring upon his kill. He had never hunted—much less caught—a creature this big. His mouth was beginning to water, but he looked toward Ancelin, seeking futher direction.

We'll eat it now? he asked. Or do you want it? 

He yearned to take it back to Moontide's camp, but it was this man who had alerted him to its presence in the first place. It was only fair to share or to cede his kill altogether.

"what? i don't want it," a lie! his belly hungered for the thing even then, "because it's yours. all yours. eat up, kid. you killed it, you eat it. i'll share if you want but no sweat."
his own daughters were like this, coursing through the valley and staining it with all manner of blood. he missed them, and went to give the young hunter their equivalent of a high-five, tail waving in pleasantry. "keep up the good work. they're fast. you can be sneakier."
with that, if there was nothing else, the bearclaw would move off in his usual abrupt manner, beelining for the valley camp and his wife.

Kitimat drew back, surprised, his brows drawn together. He figured he'd have to sacrifice at least some part of the kill to the stranger.

But, no, the man departed with pleasant words, and Kitty watched him with mouth slightly agape.

I— he started, then shook his head. He leaned down and picked up the carcass, turning back toward Moontide's camp. Anyone who saw him in the next few hours would find him grinning ear to ear.

A successful hunt!