Cerulean Cape At The Edge

He had done it. 

He had caught something.

For many, it would not have been something to celebrate. Catching food and then consuming it was a very basic aspect of life for any wolf. Even the deer had to chase the Summer grasses that fled in the winter, sometimes. The thing was, Diaval was not good at hunting. He'd managed to keep himself alive since separating from his mom but...well...not with any grace. He'd eaten a few corpses and gone hungry, too. But now - now he had done it!

Trotting, his tail raised and beaming with pride, the monochrome male carried in his mouth a single gull. It wasn't huge but it wasn't scrawny, either. He was elated with himself for noticing how the gulls were distracted and even seemed a bit dull. They were loud and obnoxious but he had seen how careless they were and he had taken advantage. They seemed to be less afraid of him than they should have been. Perhaps they hadn't seen him as a threat? They certainly did now.

He wasn't even phased by the ever noisy ocean or the gritty sand. He was just pleased with himself.

He stopped mid-trot, stumbling a bit as he spotted the other wolf along the shore. His head dropped and he took a few tentative steps back. He was very visible, not too far from here, and while part of him was very rightly telling him to run, another part knew he had only found good people here. In the end, he just froze.