Porcupine Ridge outcomer

They moved like two machines, operating on the same wave-length. Kierkegaard was impressed by the younger wolf’s ability to understand and react appropriately to the panic-stricken goat. Good hunting partners were hard to come by. Watching out of the corner of his eye as the young prey animal darted for the edge of the cliff, Kierkegaard too moved to prevent it from going over. It was in this move that he felt his hock quiver and erupt in violent pain. The bite mark that had been scored down his leg had sprung open in his rapid movement and he found himself frozen in place, his canines bared and his golden eyes rolled up towards the cloud-spotted sky. Luckily for the both of them, the dark-furred male had managed to grip the hoof of the goat in his jaws and had successfully thrown the creature against the face of the rock, immobilizing it for the time being. Kierkegaard, pushing through the excruciating pain in his hock, made a staggering move to dart to where the goat lay bleating and wrapped his jaws around the creature’s neck, shaking his skull violently back and forth until the young animal ceased to move. With heavy breathing, the ashen loner turned his gaze back towards the dark youth and nodded his head to the creature, a quiet gesture of thanks for saving their meal. Blood was trickling down the back of his leg, his wound having been torn open wider by his reckless movements in the heat of their hunt. Kierkegaard did not want the black-furred wolf to catch sight of this weakness, however, so he turned to adjust his body so that his hock was facing the rock instead of the golden-eyed stranger. The pallid Sairensu male was a wary beast. Even if the other wolf meant no harm, Kierke could not afford to have his weakness exploited.