Moonspear Follow the neon in young lovers' eyes

The small group of wolves moved with proficiency that was worthy of marvel. Each one played an important role in singling out their target and keeping the mother from jumping to the calf’s aid. Bronco was doing a fine job, taking the role of the tank. He held his ground with the fearful mother, even against the desperate attempts to brush him aside. Atlas watched with a hungry gaze at the way the golden male commanded the prey. Even to someone who had been in group hunts before, it was a pleasant sight.
 
When the command rang out, the shade slunk into the brush and began to close the distance that he had between him and the calf. He would wait until Antares made a rush for the calf. Once his brother had frightened their target, he could rush from his hiding place and act as the final pincer, cutting off any chance that the child would have to flee and assisting in bringing the animal to its death.
 
With muscles taut, the dark yearling waited eagerly for the chance to strike. His sunlight gaze was trained on the other members in the party. A rush of his heart urged him forward a few more paces and that was where he waited. When he was certain that the calf would not be able to turn back to its mother, he stepped from the brush and began to circle the frightened young creature.