Bitterroot Valley the law of tooth and claw

Dawn, 2°C, Heavy Mist. Elk hunting thread.

The sun had just started to rise in the early morning sky, casting a fiery orange glow across the valley dominated by bitterroot plants. Despite the warm presence of the sun, the morning was bitterly cold; the temperature barely above freezing as the lone wolf slowly stirred awake. Peering out from the darkness, from his position tucked beneath the hollow of a fallen tree, Niall's jaw parted into a long yawn, his pearly-white teeth glinting beneath the faint dawn light. 

Hungrily his sharp silver eyes scanned along the horizon, searching for any sign of movement from the herd of elk he had smelt on the breeze the night previous. Dark nostrils flared too, quickly picking up on the subtle scent on the breeze as it hissed passed his pricked ears. His tongue moved to lick ravenously at his charcoal lips as he quickly shuffled his way out from underneath the hollow tree, and bowed down into a stretch before giving his honeyed fur a thorough shake. 

Silently he stalked forwards, following the scent of the elk herd on the breeze as he began to journey deeper into the heart of the valley. Pale paws gradually loped into a brisk trot, as the male moved swiftly through the plains of wild pink flowers. Up ahead clouds began to gather, forming a thick haze of mist to hover inches above the ground. It provided the perfect cover for the hungry male as he set out on a hunt.