Dawnlark Plains Nothing, no nothing
All Welcome  January 07, 2019, 02:12 PM
The Vartija

Hunger gnawed at him. He was hunting, crouched with belly to the snow. A quail he'd spotted with craft pecked at some remaining long-grass peering through the top laying of snow. His ears were slick to his head, legs ready to spring him forwards towards the bird. He knew what the bird would do; fly. That's when he'd launch upwards and grasp it, unless he got lucky on his first attack. 
He'd rolled in the snow, clumps of it clinging to his dark form and smoothing the soft throbbing in his face. It felt good to be again doing his own thing.

The guilt of abandoning Grezig, despite his promise, hadn't sunk in yet.
He moved, making a massive leap at the bird, its strangled cry ripping the air before the beating of wings. He was ready. Launching after it's tail, the bird was clamped in his jaws and brought down with the gravity. He expertly held it down with both paws, knowing how strong the wings and the ferocious beak could be, and dove his teeth into the killing spot.
Silence, save for wind and his light panting.

Then he started his feast, savoring the bird like it would be his last meal; every meal counted in winter. His tail softly swiped the air as he ate, pleased with his efforts. He didn't realise until the presence was known to him that there was another by him.

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