Sawtooth Spire frühlingstauwetter

informal hunt!

hooves clacked assuredly upon the snowless edge of a cliffside. hard lavender stare appraised the sheep, for its vantage point was clever. but he was a wolf long given over to the mountains. diaspora's claim had been rugged and high; the spire took such a notion and made it tenfold. mahler was careful, but confident in his own abilities.
as the ram stepped back, mahler lunged powerfully from cover, jaws snapping into one hamstring as his own paws fought for purchase on the crag.
his quarry, crazed with the sudden agony and desperate to avoid further, scrambled from the little perch, heading directly down the rock face. mahler's shoulders tensed with the mighty effort of keeping himself from a free-fall, sliding clawed and hesitantly after the ram. a much wider shelf jutted from the wall, safety only some feet below.
he need only hold on, the man told himself, blood pulsing between his jaws to splatter the stone.