Nocturne Summit BWP3: PREY OPPORTUNITY

Death was part of the life cycle. Peregrine knew that, just like he knew that pups often died, even during the best of times. He supposed he accepted Peter's fate as an unfortunate but natural outcome of the famine, but that didn't mean he could control his emotions over the loss. Mostly, he was angry and full of blame. He blamed himself, of course. He should have been able to do more, keep his sons fed even if it wore him down to the bone. He never should have left, either. But he didn't stop there. He blamed Fox. He blamed his Betas. He blamed his pack. They had all failed Peter, when they all should have sacrificed themselves for him and the other pups. They were supposed to be the future and now at least one of them didn't have one.

He certainly wasn't in a good state of mind when he left home in the middle of the night. He told himself he was going out to hunt, yet Peregrine never even managed to pick up so much as a scent to track. Out of nowhere, he found himself at the foot of a mountain. He gazed up at its shadow, blacker than the surrounding night, and began to climb. He was high on one of its peaks when the day broke and when the rain began to fall. He was a motionless statue as the two rams squared off below, the clash of their horns a substitute for the absent thunder. His single jade eye watched as wolves began to gather beyond the mountain goats, clearly preparing to hunt them.

When Peregrine finally moved, it was very sudden and without warning. He snapped to his feet in a flourish and leaped out into the open air. Part of him hoped he would land on one of the ram's backs. Another (selfish and cowardly) part of him hope he missed and smashed open like a watermelon against the sharp, wet rocks.