Ocean's Breath Plateau Homeward Bound.

The dog came traipsing across a narrow corridor of stone, a squirrel hanging limp from his jaws, when the blustering wind caught upon him. He was nearly pushed from the ridge and had to duck down, scrambling towards some trees and frosted ferns. The squirrel wagged with the momentum of the directional shift and he nearly lost it against some grabby bits of bramble; but a quick jolt with his neck pulled the dead thing free. Bug hunkered there for a minute or two - patient, drooling around the warmth of the little body. 

When things calmed and the trees stopped shuddering, Bug plopped the squirrel down. He was ready to tuck in to his meal when a new scent hit his nose - he had been so distracted by the powerful blood smell of his prey's broken neck that he had missed the obvious: this was wolf territory. His nose wrinkled a bit, and Bug looked to the crumpled body at his paws, wondering if he should glut himself and run, or chance an encounter.