Haunted Wood success is not given it is taken

He hungered, and his nose twitched to a familiar scent that laced the wind. He stole through the trees in pursuit of it as the sun crept above the horizon and darkness ebbed. He found what he sought where the canopy of the forest was broken by a fallen fir: a cluster of blueberry bushes, bathed in the first light of the day. His sleek muzzle nosed around them, finding some of the berries plump and ripe and others barely so. He cared only that they were edible, and did not pause to savor the unique sweetness as his teeth flashed among the plants. He devoured berries, sprigs and leaves all.

There was a bird flitting among the branches above him. While he fed, one ear twisted and turned to follow its movements; but he was uninterested until it began to chirp excitedly as it drew closer, and now a single dark eye turned to watch the shape as it flew directly toward him. His muzzle was still tucked among the blueberries when the bird made to alight on the bush in front of him. Its small talons barely had a chance to close around its perch when the shadow struck. The bird was skewered on a long fang as his jaws closed on it, its eyes wide with a terrible realization that came too late.

When he finished his feed he walked on, and left nothing behind him but a ravaged bush and a few gray and white feathers clinging to its tattered stems.