Fox's Glade Put a million miles under your heels

The burst of movement through the brush caused a snowballing effect: as the rabbit tore across its run, birds shrieked and bolted off of the path for the cover of bramble and branch.

An argent figure stomped after it.

The rabbit veered along a concourse it knew well, gaining ground. The wolf turned up the trail and hurried after it. A few moments later as stillness returned to the glade, there came a piercing death knell.

The wolf came prowling from a dark corner of the woodland, triumphant.

The cries of a dying rabbit woke the coyote from his slumber; his ears pricked, trying to locate the sound, but it was gone. Scent, however, was a different story. Lucius followed the scent of rabbits up along a trail. All was still, silent for a moment, before he heard the sound of movement further ahead. The coyote pressed on carefully, not wanting to be seen; his stomach gave a low rumble as he saw, beyond the brush, a much larger wolf, carrying a limp rabbit in his jaws, and a soft whine escaped his muzzle.

The rabbit had a broken leg from where Mesa had initially grabbed it. There was a stunned expression on its face, and it went on to blink and stare while being carried.

The first jostle of its body - as it rounded the proverbial bend and saw beyond the pain of its snapped bone - caused Mesa to tighten his grip.

Then he violently shook his head until the rabbit was a satisfactory ragdoll; the tiny bones inside could not handle the force. After this, the wolf dropped the bag of bones to the earth with the intent to eat.

Lucius crept closer as the wolf dropped it's catch; he had no hope of stealing it, and he doubted there would be anything leftover for him to scavenge. Slinking into view of the wolf, the coyote asked nervously, "Any... any other rabbits where that one came from?" He could catch one for himself, but he feared the hunter's activity had scared what others there were back into their burrows.

The smell of the coyote permeated the air.

The man appeared not to notice. His focus was on the rabbit at his feet, with one large paw flattening it against the earth now, his neck curved as he moved to grasp for a piece and begin tearing; but then the voice of the stranger came, and Mesa stopped.

He exhaled sharply from his nose as if it were something noxious, while one ear turned towards the stranger. He licked his lips with apparent thought, and then lifted his paw from the rabbit carcass and took a step. Then, another.

The rabbit lay in a heap, uneaten. If the coyote was hungry there was his meal.

The wolf did not speak to him, but it lifted it's paw from the rabbit and took a few steps back. Lucius didn't dare trust it, not at first. His tail gave a nervous wag and he asked uncertainly, "You... you would give this to me? Truly?" He had little experience with wolves, saved for being chased from kills, and he did not expect this one to act different. What if this was a trick?

He moved like a lion, slow and deliberate, and paced another step from the kill so that his back was to it. The stranger spoke, and that drew Mesa's eye towards the slim figure of the coyote. It seemed like this one had experienced hardships in the past and, wisely, did not trust with ease.

Mesa gave a shrug of one shoulder as he turned around to look at the dead thing, about as entertained by it as he was by the coyote at this point.

You don't want it? He murmured with thinly veiled surprise.
He was waiting to see what the creature would do.

The wolf moved carefully, exaggerating his movements. Lucius wasn't sure if this was some ploy, or actual benevolence. He feared it, as he feared wolves. But when questioned, he gave a nervous laugh and cried, "No, no, I — I want it! I just..." The coyote trailed off as his stomach gave a huge rumble. He dared to look up at the wolf's face, to meet his gaze. "You aren't going to attack me if I take it?" It was a stupid question. The wolf could easily lie, and Lucius would have to decide whether or not it was worth the risk. But his hunger...

Growing frustrated by the creature's reluctance, Mesa made a final show of how little he cared about the kill by moving away at a steady stalk; his strides carried him further than before so that the thing lay dead behind him. He pivots at the last second and settles to his haunches.

He makes one last motion towards the pile of warm meat and then looks away, disinterested utterly.

The wolf really meant it, or at least that was what Lucius believed. His tail gave a nervous, happy thump against the ground, and he said, "Thank you..." He leaned forward, to take a cautious bite, and then another. It tasted so good, he let his eyes close and he savored it for a brief moment. When he was finished, Lucius thanked the wolf and quickly went on his way.