Firefly Glen everything moves in circles

The bull's scent danced along on the wind, luring Jem out of the treeline and into the open plains. He was a stranger in this land, drawn here by the presence of his own kind, yet overwhelmed with the sheer enormity of the land they occupied. He barely made a footprint in these beautiful Wilds, yet he had been wandering for days. Pack territories were close; at night, he heard their howls rising over the trees. At this very moment, he could be trespassing and not even know it. It was something that should have made him cautious; but today he was hungry — and hunger made him stupid.

Mouth slack and salivating, Jem drew closer, soundless but hasty in his movements. He flinched to a stop as the bull's  head suddenly lifted, and instinctively he dropped to his belly, ears twitching around in their search for answers. Did the elk see him? Smell him? He shouldn't have — Jem was downwind after all. Ah, no. There, a little ways off, a mottled grey figure had caught the bull's attention. Jem's eyes narrowed at the fellow wolf. Even from a distance, he could see the irregular way the male carried himself. He was clearly injured or very old. "Or both." Jem concluded, noting the rather raggedy condition of his fur. He shook his head. If hunting was what the old man intended, he was going to get himself killed.
 
The bull mosied on ahead, and that was enough to shift Jem's attention. Still lying flat, Jem didn't immediately move to follow, but instead held back and watched as the elderly wolf continued to trail behind. This could be interesting. If the old man really sought to attack his "prey", it might be worth seeing how it played out. Perhaps Jem wouldn't even have to lift a paw for a meal today.