Moonspear maybe in time

He had anticipated praise out of his brother, not realizing that the animal that hung so limply from his jaws still had a pulse. Atlas spoke on and the lesson suddenly felt more like a punishment, though the boy did his best to mask it as he dropped the hare to the ground before him. His ears back, he pushed himself to focus on the task at hand rather than his own lack of awareness, looking upon the scared creature blandly.

Then as he had seen his mother, his father, and his siblings do, he emulated the kill in the best way he thought possible. A paw placed over its head to hold it still, he seized the hare by the neck and snuffed the life therein out. Like a gust whisking away the flame of a candle, the hare thrashed once last time beneath his firm grasp, and then there was nothing more of its life to give.

He held it for a few seconds, not shaking it about as he would have been inclined to do before.

There wasn’t a point to it, still feeling the hot burn in his face. He released it from his jaws.

“I thought it died already,” he said lamely, not wanting to look his brother in the eye. “I was shaking it, it stopped moving—” and he cut off, not certain the explanation was enough. He knew not to toy with things like food; numerous and feisty as they were, he knew the other hares still lurked nearby. He knew that they knew what had happened, and knew that they would seek to avoid the wolves further. It was for the same reason they rotated their hunting grounds.

He thought certain he had disappointed his brother, somehow, someway.