Honeyed Pasture windsong

It wasn't a trail he caught wind of, but another wolf. 

Jura stopped and brought both front and back paws together as he lifted his head and regarded the rolling plains with innocent curiosity. There was someone else nearby, and it didn't take him long to spot a faint bit of white fur against the sea of gold. He took another moment to shake out his pelt; maybe shaking the anxieties off this time more than dirt or leafy refuse, before adjusting his course to intercept the other wolf. 

As he neared the vicinity of the stranger, a stupid fool of a grouse suddenly sprang up from the grasses with a piercing alarm cry. The wolf could wait! Jura immediately sprang high off the ground in pursuit of the fowl. His agile jaws found their mark, and he landed with a thump with his prize. It flapped and screeched, only to be silenced with few violent shakes of his head. Feathers flew and some even stuck to his face.

He stood there, as quiet as he was before, with a bloody bird in his mouth and his tail waving amiably.