Swiftcurrent Creek A branch became a blade of dignity

Wylla's hindquarters rocked side-to-side as she quickly calculated the distance between her position and the grazing rabbit. Several feet. Easily cleared in a single leap for a nimble wolf like she, though she had some extra weight kicking around that might hinder her. Closer, then. The Epsilon inched one paw forward along the detritus, disturbing nary a worm. Her tail gave a slow sweep just above the ground, buffeting long blades of grass and the edge of a curled fern, before she slid her other feet forward as well.

Crap. The hare's head shot up and its ears shifted nervously on its head, but though its beady eyes scanned past her, it couldn't make out the mottled she-wolf from the forest shadows. This was her element. Curse whatever fate had brought her to live upon the bright and battered coast for most of her life when she could've reaped the benefits of her unique fur in a sun-dappled forest instead. Now to make up for lost time.

The fleet Epsilon flexed her toes one last time, then burst from her cover with a quick snap of long back legs. There was the sound of a brief scuffle, the raucous chorus of birds fleeing the scene despite their safety in the trees, and then silence as the hungry mother tucked into her meal, the first fresh-caught meat she'd had in weeks. All the while her demeanor was vaguely nervous and rushed, and she kept glancing southward, where her babe was tucked safe in their den, practicing her standing, unbeknownst to the hunter.