Moonspear i’m through with bibles, and i’m through with food

dragomir fell behind him faithful as a shadow. the further they climbed, the further his breath came in short excited bursts -- to hunt! there was no purer purpose.

soon the bighorns came into view, and arcturus stopped to take in the grand vista, a glorious smile on his face as he turned to his packmate to speak.

that smile fell from him like a soul vanquished, when he saw the condition of dragomir's eyes -- the way they focused vacant and glassy, a fear in them not unlike the fear he had seen in fish removed from water.

instinctively the beta turned his flank towards the yearling, obscuring the view of the ram (and unintentionally, the view of the horrifying drop). "dragomir," came arcturus' alarmed and short bark, tinged with worry. "what is wrong?"

he did not wait for answer; with a bark the male descended back down the slope, instructing dragomir to follow him. he knew not what demons plagued the yearling's mind in that minute, but the hunt was off -- they would resume it some other day, when dragomir was well and ready.

cursing himself for not thinking critically of dragomir's needs, arcturus lingered for a while after dragomir settled down near the rendezvous. he would tell no one of the troubling aura he had seen enclose dragomir on those high steppes, but next time, arcturus would try a different tactic -- one not involving dazzling heights.