Lost Creek Hollow Please don't make any sudden moves

As he continued to slink through the forest, his paws, though large, slipped him quietly through the night. His pale eyes needed no adjusting, as this was his play time. Ears twisting on his head, he caught every sound: the wing beat of the owl as it launched itself off the icy branch in search of prey, the frantic scampering of the small rabbit, the futile struggle as the owl gripped it with it's talons and the sudden, dull sound of bones crunching as the owl silently put a talon through the spine. Stopping and perking his ears, he even went so far as to turn his shadowed head and show a venomous smile, anticipation for the death gurgle and the sound of flesh ripping making his pale eyes glint in the darkness.
As the sick gurgle reached his ears, a low, twisted sound of pleasure came out of his throat. Hearing the bird of prey rip it's first piece of meat off, he almost wished it was still alive. The hot red liquid inside was always better as it still flowed. His mouth salivated, and he swallowed then turned away. 
Lifting his muzzle, he took a long breath, his nostrils widening as he closed his ghost eyes for a moment. The fresh smell of death made the corners of his mouth curl up. It had always calmed him down. Yet as the long breath ended, a smell of a wolf bringing up the smell of death. Snorting softly, he started slicing his ways through the darkness, following the sweet smell of wolf flesh.