Fairspell Meadow Weeds can be pretty too!

A different place. Not much different, but different enough.This could be home if he behaved. He would, he decided. No more stealing. Not this time. Not even if he was hungry. Really hungry. Not fish, not a mouse—not even a bone. He would lay low. Give the predators no reason to sniff him out. Stay away from them. 

It was a cold morning, and blue eyes worked overtime to survey. Not bugs again. Maybe berries. But he wanted meat. Blood. Something that would sit heavy. 

Open muzzle panted visible breath as he lurked. Quick, then he’d stop, ears targeting any new sound. Hoping to find something to eat, worried he’d find something that wanted to eat him. Always perceiving. Always surviving.