Little Goat Mountain Are we faded

She only intended to study the herd, not a get front row seat to a solo hunting expedition worthy of a National Geographic special. Wildfire froze, riveted, lips slightly parted as a wolf prowled onto the scene, then dispatched a young goat. He did it with an expertise that both impressed and humbled the yearling. Her mouth clapped shut as the prey's scream ripped through the air, followed soon after by the smell of fresh blood and the noises of eating. The rest of the herd had fled somewhere, forgotten by the she-wolf as her attention remained fixed.

As an up-and-coming hunter, she was itching to go down there and pick this guy's brain about his hunting style. But she knew better than to approach a wolf mid-meal. Wildfire exhaled through her nostrils, remaining rooted to the spot as she watched him eat. Maybe she had been too hasty in assuming she couldn't have taken on one of the smaller goats herself, though she had to admit she felt like a bumbling newbie after watching the wolf below illustrate his skills.