Neverwinter Forest how junior got his head put out

anyone welcome! set immediately after this thread. preferred not siblings just yet, but wouldn't complain, either :)

The sun crested over the peaks to the east, attempting to dispell any remaining fog with its light, but some of the more stubborn strands held on tightly to their grips of the trees that surrounded the cream-coated male. Not all that much time had passed since he had a near-encounter with the intruiging dark duo. But enough for Eir to become bored and for his thoughts to return to that of his deserter siblings. A scowl crept across his face, hard glint sharpening his gaze.

And he was suddenly hungry. The kind of hunger that was spurred by anger. His nose violently tested the wind, seeking the scent of some unsuspecting prey — any kind would do — with pure lust. And it didn't take long before he caught and followed the aroma of a rather plump hare, muscular frame half lowering to the ground as he stalked silently towards it, pupils dilating and retreating when they locked on the creature, settling down further into the foilage, muscles tensing and relaxing. Slowly at first and then with increasing speed as he moved with painful slowness towards the rabbit, circling off to the side and downwind, spiraling in with careful precision. He hid behind a tree, pasterns nearly touching the ground, so low was he, his head fallen even further, eyes alight and alert, muscles preparing, waiting, until he launched himself with incredible power from his haunt, directly at the unsuspecting hare.

But while the creature was unsuspecting, it was not unprepared. All prey was always prepared for this inevitablility. And neither would Eirikr have it any other way. He relished the chase and the hunt. How his thoughts were honed completely and entirely on this one, singular purpose — that of closing his jaws completely around the neck of this fleeting ball of fur which jigged and jagged ahead of him. But the Feralheart followed every tight turn the hare made and watched gleefully as its breathing became more and more ragged, breathed in the fear that pulsated off it. And at long last, the hare gave one final heroic feint before Eirikr closed the remaining distance and, also, coincidentally, the last moment in the animal's life. He was not cruel, however, and with a swift, strong shake of his head, the hare went limp and only then did he sink his teeth further into the flesh, tasting the fresh flow of blood.

The sun's edging creep into the sky served as little more than a constant reminder that Whimbrel hated the entire summer season. It was hot, and his thick coat wasn't remotely made for such a climate — it often struck him that it would've been far more clever of him to roam in a more Northern direction, but he never seemed to do so. Plus, it was bright, and bright light bounced off of his bright fur into his light eyes and forced him to be, during the daytime, almost constantly squinting or averting his gaze so as not to inflict unnecessary pain upon himself.

In defense, Whim had taken to spending much of his time in forests, and more often than not, the vale nestled between the mountains, not terribly far off; with the peaks stretching toward the sky on all sides, the sun barely reached through at all, and so there he had a constant nighttime, cool and crisp and dim. He was still new to the area, though, and since he could smell a rather high n umber of wolves out and about, it was worth exploring some. Whim had never really found a place that felt like home — he couldn't have explained it more specifically than that, and not only because he was about as limber with words as your average lumberjack was with tightrope walking — but the thought was often in the back of his mind, that one day he'd set foot in a forest or on a beach or in a cave and feel comfortable and at ease. Or perhaps he would meet other wolves who had the same impact — it didn't matter. He needed to continue to have a look around.

Not long after he'd struck out he smelled a familiar scent, and followed his nose until he found his rather distant relation settling down to a fresh catch. Stopping nearby, Whim dipped his head in greeting but didn't say anything more — a simple hello would've sufficed, but he didn't see the need to say something that was implied with a simple head bob.