Fox's Glade [BWP P4 Prey Opportunity] choria

All of a sudden she was alone, and then she wasn't. First came the familiar scent of Easthollow and the sound of someone's heavy steps; Ibis did not want to remove her attention from the struggling animal for any length of time, but she dared a few glances at the oncoming shape, and was amazed by the gloss of their coat, their bulk, their sweet feminine scent. It was not a wolf she knew, but they shared a glance and seemed to come to terms, wordlessly. Some sort of unspoken agreement—although it was not to last.

Soon there were others coming upon the scene as swiftly as crows to a carcass. Ibis pulled back a few measures and gave herself a small window of time to observe the wolves as they made themselves known. It did not seem to matter how stealthy they were in the long run. Each additional body caused the trapped creature to struggle harder, breathe faster, writhing where it was standing tangled among the trees, and for a brief spell Ibis thought, 'How terribly sad, how frightening it must be to be that creature.' — even with her empathy flaring to life, Ibis knew it was a desperate situation with the land's current limitations and shortages, and that the creature would, most assuredly, be dying to feed the lot of them. It was sad but it was necessary, and so she put it out of her mind.

There came some voices on the wind, most of which she could not make out as anything more than dull noise; but she looked to the gathering faces: the dark marked cream body of her step-mother among them, the lithe and autumnal wolf that she had once thought to be a fox, some darker shapes she did not know — and still, the grey-clad woman beside her, lurking the closest, perhaps to stress the animal to death. Ibis looked to Nanook with a sadness in her eyes, wishing the animal a swift death whenever the wolves chose to launch themselves upon it.

For now she lingered, watching, waiting, uncertain of how to proceed.