Whitefish River Pawprints Amongst Dying Grass

She hesitated for just a brief moment. She didn’t know why, but she had always done this, something her mother did her best to weed out of her since she was young. It was hesitation that could make her lose a kill, or get her killed.

—

‘You hesitated again, Aliana...'

'Sorry, Mom...' 

'Tell me, daughter... Would you hesitate on a kill?’

‘No.’

‘Would you hesitate to protect a packmate?’

‘No.’

‘Would you hesitate to protect yourself or the borders of the land that you call home?’

‘No.’

‘Then stop hesitating, Aliana. At best, it’ll leave you hungry. At worse …  it’ll get you killed. If you see an open opportunity … take it. Show neither prey nor enemy mercy because both will try to kill you.’

—

The memory fades and Aliana was quiet...then she lunged forward. The coyote squealed, kicking and writhing while Aliana’s fangs sunk deeply into its neck. Blood danced on her tongue and dripped onto the earthy ground, being sucked up by the soil. She held this fastened grip so tightly that the Theif couldn’t breathe. No matter how much the Coyote struggled, the grip would not loosen. Aliana held it till the struggling stop and she knew the Coyote’s heart stilled before letting go.
 
It was done. 
 
Aliana lets go and steps away with a huff, anger had faded away into a pitiless glare. It knew the risks but was still desperate enough to try; it can't be helped. ❝  Let’s move the body out of the territory…  ❞ Aliana spoke looking at the corpse, ❝  Its body will feed some other hungry scavenger.  ❞ 
 
The irony of it all; it came looking for food, now it will become food.