Flycatcher Downs vorarephobia

Grass flattened under heavy paws as the wolf broke into a lope, closing the distance between hunter and prey. A feint attack, a lazy snap of his jaws. Most herds would take their chances against a lone wolf, but not this one it seemed. Too caught up in the hunt, it did not cross his mind that the reason for this was that he was, in fact, not alone.

Muscles rippled as the ironclad quickly covered ground until he was running alongside the young buck, gaze calculating the best way to down it as it struggled to keep up with the rest. He lunged for its bad leg, teeth sinking into its already-torn flesh until he heard the whoosh of hooves signalling his release.

In its panic, the buck had spun to kick with its good legs - the wolf kept up the chase and watched gleefully as it ran, disoriented, into the brush. The sooner it tired or lost balance, the sooner he would eat.