Gyrfalcon's Keep WOLVES DON'T LOSE SLEEP OVER THE OPINION OF SHEEP

The past few hunts had not gone well. Despite the addition of the fallen deer he had found, their food stores were running low, and there was still many dark days of winter left. Aesop was not particularly worried, not yet, but it was enough to make him change his habits, and he found himself hunting small game for himself more often. This way he wasn't drawing on the pack's resources as much, leaving more for the pregnant Thistle Cloud and the pups in the pack. (That, now that he came to think of it, he had no idea who they belonged to.)

So he loped along the ridge, hoping to find some small game among the thick trees and rocks. A few times, he thought he saw a bird or rabbit dart out, but before he could do much more than notice it, it had disappeared beneath a thick bush or hollow in the earth. Finally, he met with some luck, and was able to catch a thin, injured squirrel as it clambered towards a tree. Shameless and hungry, he sat where he was, ripping the small squirrel open and beginning to pull strips of meat from its thin frame.