The Sunspire Fear the nonexistant

Nose pressed as firmly to the snow as it could possibly be without disturbing the fallen flakes, Kahlua smelled out the route of a rabbit. Her heart pounded in her chest as the scent became stronger, though her foot falls became more hesitant and careful. Over the past months Kahlua had learned that catching a rabbit is all about surprise. The key is to be swifter than they are once you’ve made yourself known. Peering up, head still low to the ground, Kahlua’s icy eyes locked on a brown rabbit nestled in a shrub. Her ears pinned to her cranium, legs bent beneath her to crouch into a leaping position. 

Just as her muscles twitched and she prepared to attack, a deep cry echoed through the mountain’s slopes. Kahlua’s eyes left her prey for a split second, as if looking towards the howl would hint at who would be calling her. When the pup’s eyes danced back to the bush, her meal had disappeared. Kahlua chuffed in annoyance and stood upright, barking back to her Alpha’s call and took off in a dead sprint. Though young, her legs were lengthy and they easily carried her small weight briskly across the irregular terrain. Her small paws barely seemed to touch the land as she laced between rocks, over collapsed trees and molded her way onto ledges.

It took minutes for Kahlua to reach Ferdie, but once she had she was hardly panting. Her chest lightly rose up and down as she breathed, “Ferdie.” Her head lowered with the rest of her body and she crawled to her Alpha, licking his chin in submission. Her ears swiveled backwards and her eyes averted his, creeping their way to the ducks he had at his own feet. At the same time a grumble tickled her stomach. “You called me?”