Whitewater Gorge deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked

He spent most of his time, as he spent most of his life, searching for his next meal, be they of lupine or other origin. In this way he was nothing more than a spirit on the breeze, terrorizing those he met and leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. He supposed that it suited him, this life. It was what his Maker had done, and what he had done for years. But he could not shake the gnawing feeling to change his normal course, to switch to a new path, even briefly. He had attempted it before, many a time in the past year or so, but yet was compelled to do so again.

But for now he hunted. He followed the bloody pawprints of a wolf not too far away from him. It was not the wolf's own blood, which would have excited him to no end, but a rabbit's. This did not deter him in the end, however. The contrast of snow and blood was always arousing for him and so he followed, slowly making gain on the wolf in the distance.