Dragoncrest Cliffs There's gonna be a party when the wolf comes home

On the inland side of the pack, just along the borders, was a stand of lodgepole spruce that Chacal had once scouted as an area preferred by spruce grouse. She was headed in that direction- but halted when she reached the bit of open prairie that the stand of trees bordered. It was early morning, a good time for hunting birds- and while she had intended to hunt spruce grouse, something else came into her line of view. 

As soon as she spotted them- and they weren't easy to see- she froze. Ptarmigan, all dressed in their white, wintery feathers, pecked and scratched about the shrubby area looking for food. A potential appetizer, she thought- and how lucky she'd be if she could score both a ptarmigan and a spruce grouse in one day. Slowly, she began to make her way toward then, one careful pawstep at a time, inching forward like a stick insect to try and close the gap between them.