Bramblepoint Back beat, the word was on the street that the fire in your heart is out

Peregrine snagged himself in a particularly tangled thicket and emerged on its other side only after several minutes' struggle. He shook out his coat with a quiet huff, then continued on the game trail. The pig's scent was pungent in his nose now. When he passed a fresh pile of its dung, his salivary glands activated. He trotted through a clearing and then began winding along a narrow rut through the underbrush. He was getting hot, hotter, hottest... there! He spotted the pig asleep between the roots of an old tree, partially obscured by leaf litter, and pounced.

The thing let out one last, shrieking squeal before Peregrine's jaws crushed its throat. The black wolf then swung around, dragging the carcass across the filthy forest floor, back toward the clearing. Once there, he released his grip and panted from the exertion. As he waited to catch his breath, his head lifted, ears cupping as he detected the sound of nearby footfalls. A growl bubbled up his throat as he loomed possessively over the carcass, one broad paw coming up to rest on the slain pig's flank.