The Heartwood Bed Time Snack

He quickened his pace after the scent laid out in front of him. The hunger drove him forward despite the sweat burning in his wounds. They had barely scabbed, but Wicken could not wait around for them to heal without some form of food to carry him through the coming week. He already felt tired and sluggish, but he carried on after the scent of a fawn. It had been such a slim chance, but Wicken had happened upon a deer and fawn in a small clearing. Now, he chased them for what he knew he needed.

The sting of his injuries were just a brutal reminder of rejection and betrayal, and they ached deeply as he loped across the area attempting to catch up to his new quarry. Wicken was a quick blur of dark fur with his head set even to his shoulders. It gave him an odd appearance to any that might glimpse him. A large, lanky wolf with too long legs whom held himself so restrained and awkward. The sun was soon to fall from the sky as it did every night, and he wanted to be full before he laid his head that very night. He soon found himself on the edge of a small stream, hesitating only to take a small drink before the sound of another revealed he was no alone. Wicken continued to face parallel from the stranger in hopes he would not be engaged.