Silverlight Terrace Then when I'm thirsty, I drink their blood.

A lone wolf’s hunger is never satiated but he can’t remember the last time he’d caught something. His waist is narrower than it has and the base of his ribs has begun to sink inward. He still moves with grace and strength, nose twitching for a fresh trail—he’ll take anything at this point—and his nose touches the ground. The open field lies out before him, without the tall grasses of the pasture, and he makes his way through.
 
However, his nose picks up something a little larger than he’s capable of catching and his head bolts up, peering across the way to a cougar facing the opposite direction. Lucky for him, the wind blows in his favor and he stands still, uncertain of the move he needs to take to get out of such a tricky situation.