Shadewood Half of him an angel, the other death

Darcia returned to the shadewood, as he felt he always would, and began to occupy himself with a hunt. The sun would be setting soon, and in the shadows of the titanic forest, the earth was cool underfoot— ideal conditions to carry out a strenuous chase. But the large male didn't have an appetite for something quick and easy. His nose turned up over the abundant trails of rabbits and weasels and such, instead honing his senses to something that might feed him for the next few days rather than the next few hours. As a lone wolf, his success rate for larger prey would be diminished greatly, but the swain was not to be daunted by the task at hand and he trusted his own vast experience as a survivor and a killer to get it done without help.

From the west, long shafts of light pooled through every break in the treeline as the blazing summer sun sank steadily on the horizon. Darcia padded forward with intent, his steps light and near-silent despite his immense size. He was following the beelined scents of a small deer herd, and it wasn't too long after he'd begun that he started to see them appear through the well-lit trees. Giving them a wide girth, Darcia circled like a shark, or a vulture, and his eyes scoured the twenty or so grazing bodies in search of the smallest and weakest of them all.