Neverwinter Forest Intrepid

Although he knew the chances of capturing a deer on his own were slim, Impala nonetheless wanted to catch up to the herd and see if there might be an opportunity. If nothing else, every moment of tracking practice helped him sharpen his deadly craft. The yearling slowed, taking the time to press his nose to the trunk of a tree and sniff the rough bark, then drop his gray eyes to study the ground. He then lifted his head again, tilting his snout into the air and testing the light breeze that ruffled the thick canopy overhead.

Suddenly, he froze, head turned over his shoulder and black-rimmed ears erect as he listened. Aside from the wind soughing through the evergreens and a few distant bird calls, the forest was quiet. Then he heard it again, in the distance: the distinct sound of large hooves pressing heavily on the soft bed of needles. Impala turned swiftly and broke into a trot, moving noiselessly as he slalomed between the trees. His own paws, though large, were placed carefully and lightly to avoid making a sound.

Soon, a fresh scent came to him. He slowed, panting. It belonged to a bull moose. Impala didn't dare approach without exercising extreme caution. The beast might be more unpredictable and downright dangerous than ever as he fought for his life. Impala proceeded at a slow creep, then stopped in his tracks when another scent wove into the evergreen tapestry. He let out a sharp huff. He was not the only wolf in the woods.

Nonetheless, the young predator continued to move slowly and stealthily forward until he saw the moose between a break in the trees. His gray eyes watched even as the bull fell to his knees, his heaving flanks dappled by sunlight peeking through the leafy brise-soleil. Impala's heart skipped a beat, though he did not forget the other wolf. Even as the moose began to toss his great antlered head, Impala searched for any sign of the she-wolf whose scent lingered in his nose. He wondered if she was alone.