Little Goat Mountain baby, if you like it

Goats were practically sheep, he'd thought- until he'd given chase, and had realized that goats definitely weren't very much like sheep. These were sheep that had shed their bulky, wooly coats, gained spiky horns, and had learned an extensive amount of parkour. They could spot a predator coming from miles away with their odd, horizontal pupils, and simply move up the slope to a sheer cliff of rock and still manage to tread along with little difficulty. 

The fuss kicked up when he came barreling down the shale toward a small group of them rumbled like brittle thunder as loose rocks and gravel were sent flying. The goats scattered, scrambling for higher ground where they could perch out of his reach but he pursued one down toward the base of the mountain and once it was past the treeline, he was able to overtake the creature and bowl it over onto the ground. It bleated only a couple times before it was silenced, and for a few moments he gave himself time to rest, breathing heavily over the ewe's neck. 

It was then that he spotted a dark wolf, barely noticeable as she lay in the shadow of roots at the base of a tree. He tensed, gripping the goat tighter while he assessed how safe his kill would be.