Shadow Mountain zoka

Most days Anselm would have seen this wolf, and went the other way. He wasn’t one for pleasantries; she hardly looked pleasant. Her rough fur and tormented face said enough - she was riffraff, blown in by a useless wind. 

But Anselm wondered of her intention as she stalked after the elk. Did she truly think she could take one? 

Maybe she did; that might kill two birds with one stone if a neat kick to her head ended her. It would save Anselm the effort of having to ward her off of the herd he’d been watching, and he’d get a warm meal regardless. 

Anselm followed, a grim shadow that now closed the gap between them.