Porcupine Ridge moose notepad and jeep pen

anyone!

He would not see his wolves go hungry. He trusted them all to be capable enough of hunting small game to see them through a lean week, but knew how easy it was to suffer several misses, and to find yourself hungry. With with his own belly full of partridge, he set about to catch something else, to stock a nearby cache at the base of an outcrop.

He stole through the snow, tucking himself between trees, prowling along their trunks, as he tracked after the fresh scent of a hare. It was a flick of an ear that lead him to spot the white creature against its white backdrop, and he lowered himself to watch. It was not yet alarmed. It sat grooming itself, and the black wolf took his time in drawing closer while it was busy and distracted.

Once close, he burst from hiding, and the hare, wide-eyed, bolted. It ducked and weaved, but he managed to stay on its tail, and was awarded with a hind leg between his teeth. The hare squealed shrilly, but it was cut short as his fangs found its neck. He lifted the limp carcass, and started to head toward the cache.