Ravenshook Cliffs on the long way down

He did not blend so well with the snow; but it mattered not. Exposure was an assumed risk in the open, be it a sweeping field or the cliffs that stood sentinel over the sea. He expected to be seen as he moved across them. But in the forests and the crags of the mountains he was so accustomed to, he was not but a shadow among the trees and rocks.

The wind blew crossways, betraying neither the other wolf's presence to him or his presence to the other wolf as he draws close enough, not to hear the wolf's paw slip on the rocks, but to hear the cry as he sprang for the bird. He heard also the frustrated snarl. Curious, Taggarik makes his way toward the noise, his attentive gaze not capturing the white male until his sturdy limbs climb from a small dip and he steps out around a cluster of boulders. He stops then, his ears twisting as he studies the prone form in front of him.