Bramblepoint With the new day comes new strength

His place between snow laden stalks of thick grass found, Dirge sank low onto his belly in wait. His companion slipped in and out of view before the snow helped to obscure her fully. It left him in silence, or as near to silence as could have been mustered. He stilled his breathing, no longer drawing in as quick nor deep in anticipation. His heart pounded out a different but imperceptible beat; he was ready and his patience dared to wane.

But it held out long enough for him to pick up on the subtle movements through the brush ahead. A twitch of whiskers and wet nose, a pelt that stood out almost more than it blended in against the snowy woodland—a hare, curious of the newfound silence left in the wake of what it thought were passing wolves. He dusted the fat snowflakes from his head and stepped out, hind legs pushing him along as he resumed his work at the base of brambles. To himself, Dirge made noises about this internally. A hare did not get so easily snared as a wolf in such things. His options weighed themselves as long seconds drew out, his eyes never off the hare he saw. He hoped more than one wandered still, that more than one would hunt for earthy delicacies beneath soft snow...

He had begun to hold his breath, muscles coiled until he sprang forward as the hare shifted away from the thorns. Dirge had carried himself no more than a few steps before he was noticed and then... the game was on. He tore past the thorns and the hare—the hares—scattered with unspoken cries. With any luck, the lengthy delay gave his counterpart time to settle in, and hopefully, hopefully she was ready.