Mount Apikuni Ain't nothing in this world for free

The deciduous trees were still awaiting their leaves to return for the Spring; they stood like soldiers, ready and willing to sprout colour and life when the weather warmed up. Larch waited among them, her honey brown coat mingling with the sturdy branches. The warrior's ears turned this way and that, ensnaring the tiniest of sounds, right down to the movements of mice in the undergrowth. The tiny critters had no reason to worry for now, though – Larch was after bigger game.

The one good thing about Winter was that it drew the mule deer down from the snowy mountains onto lower, more fruitful ground. Even better, they liked to snack on the twigs of the very trees and bushes that the golden-brown female waited amongst. Larch's gaze was trained on a gathering of berry bushes one hundred feet away. These were the plants with the greatest yield currently in the immediate area.

Larch's eyes shifted from the colourfully dotted bushes when, somewhere behind her, well hidden in the trees, a twig snapped. The swift female regained a four-legged stance within a second or two and pivoted to head slowly, carefully in the direction of the sound. She was still becoming accustomed to the new scents and sounds of the mountains, but the wolf was bred to hunt, and prey was as recognisable to her as the back of her own paw.

Larch was a seasoned huntress and her movements were well practised: a low crouch and a creep forward here; switching around a tree there, creeping ever closer to the foraging deer. Her muscles were tensed like springs, ready to enable her to shoot off in chase when the deer noticed her – for it was a matter of when, not if. Rarely did a hunt go down without a chase.

One large ear twitched atop the herbivore's head, and Larch pushed off the ground, flying headlong towards the deer with the fire of the hunt in her eyes.