Bearclaw Valley the sleeper

her adrenaline kicks up a notch as she hears the other wolf's pawsteps thundering behind her (or is it only the blood pounding in her ears?). no matter what she hears, she is laser focused on the laggard of the two squirrels; the other is sprinting away too quickly. her legs are not long enough—perhaps her hunting companion can—

—the quarry stumbles slightly over a fallen branch and she takes advantage, sailing over the ground with giant strides and thrusting her open jaws forward

the give of tender flesh! the crumbling of tiny bones,

Avicus lifts her head triumphantly, the squirrel making half-hearted efforts to escape, thrashing weakly in her mouth. it's half-paralyzed and bleeding from the waist. she drops it upon the damp fallen leaves and snaps its neck, staring at the suddenly-still being for a few heartbeats before digging in. . .

wait. no—she is too curious to eat, and looks around for the yearling, wondering if his luck had been good today, too.

rolled success in tabletop