Nova Peak this is how i tell it

it's cold, but nothing compared to the driving cold of the walk with no shelter.  out there, there is only white and stone. he shakes the memory of the treeless tundra from his mind and descends the peak.

near the flatland below, he unearths the thin scent of winter hare. 

staking beneath a warren reeking of fresh dung, the hunter waits for life to stir in the earth below.

She announced herself to the man with a few faint chuffs — but held her distance for now. Shrike had recognized in his movements the focus of the hunt. She couldn't see him anymore, but she knew he was still there.

After a few moments, she started forward, her gaze fixed on the place where she'd watched the wolf disappear. It smelled strongly of prey. She dropped into a crouch as she moved, creeping forward with her ears perked. Maybe there was something to it.

a different type of being draws the hunter's attention. rabbits blend into the countryside no matter the season; but this rabbit does not. his gaze meets hers and then trails to the strange tail, the drawn up waist.

a fellow competitor? a compatriot? he licks his lips and hunkers closer to the snow, ears straining as the faintest stirring of noise comes from the tunnels below.

When their eyes met, her decision was made. Shrike studied the warren intently as she inched closer, stepping lightly, not even daring to breathe too loudly. After a few minutes of frigid silence, a rabbit emerged with a series of frantic squeaks.

Shrike thumped her tail against the ground once, drawing its tiny eyes and sending it fleeing in the direction of the stranger. Her breath caught, eyes tracking the movement. She waited.

this collaboration came unanticipated to the hunter, who'd spent many months alone. everything - even seemingly the pounding of his heart - froze as the silhouette of two rabbit ears emerged from the snow-frosted hole.

distracted by the thump of the she-wolf's tail, the rabbit bolted straight for sky breaker.

there was a flurry of grit and snow, a rough crack, and the final squeal of a rabbit who had failed el ahrairah's first tenant.

but first they must catch you --

caught and dispatched, a scarlet rivulet spread from the bottom of sky breaker's jaws. his gaze returns to the she-wolf.

did she expect recompense?

Her tail continued to thump against the ground as she watched the man slay the rabbit. Shrike lowered herself to rest on her belly, forepaws splayed out, hind legs stretched to one side, her tail never going still. And she watched him.

Whether he left or finished his meal under her gaze, Shrike would remain where she was until he'd finished. Only then would she stand again, tail still moving, tentatively hopeful that he might want to play.

the way he sees it, it's survival of the fittest. the long mountain mile told him this, and the turning of faces cemented it as gospel truth.

so, as she lies there upon the ground - a little too relaxed, a little too trusting with that waving tail -- sky breaker prepares to turn. one ear tilts back as she shifts to her feet, her expression clearly eliciting play.

what, expend energy? en esta economia? he grips the hare tighter, maroon gaze conveying little as he turns from the killing ground and back to the slope.

Her heart fell as she watched the wolf turn away. Shrike didn't move from where she was, only put her head down atop her paws with a heartbroken little whine. She had hoped he would at least linger for company.

But she wouldn't chase after him. She didn't need to, nor did she need his rabbit. Shrike sighed through her nose, ears drooping and eyes sad as she watched him for full dramatic effect. Not everyone wanted to be her friend, she reminded herself. Even when she tried so hard to be good.