The large wolf lay underneath the fallen tree, patiently waiting behind the screen of brambles and branches for suitable prey to pass by. His nose had been the first thing to alert him to the well-traveled deer trail that ran parallel to his hiding spot, and thus alerted, it had been simple for his eyes to find the path - a thin line of dirt that parted the lush grass. He'd followed it for a few paces until he'd run across a pile of deer scat. A sniff told him it was fresh, laid within the past several hours. His nose, so much more sensitive than that of a human, told him even more than that. The scent spoke of a healthy prey that lived on a diet of berries and leaves. It was male, and from the indentation of the hoof print further up the trail, it was a large one. Even a pup would have recognized the potential of this find.
The wolf's head lay upon his paws, yellow eyes half-lidded. Although settled in a relaxed pose, he was completely aware of his surroundings. His nose twitched, sampling each breath for the scent that would mark the arrival of his prey. Black-tipped ears swiveled as his mind automatically filtered through the normal forest patter for pertinent sounds.
And there it was, a delicate snap as a carelessly-placed hoof fell upon a twig. The wolf's head raised, every muscle of his body tensed and quivering as adrenaline coursed through his veins. The wind shifted, delivering the scent to him several long moments before the deer moved into sight. It was a buck, as large as he could have hoped. Its large racks stretched upwards, eight points nearly brushing the branches overhead. From its body language, it seemed the wind had shifted in time - it hadn't yet caught his scent.
Step by step, it moved closer to where the wolf had hidden. It took every ounce of discipline he had to keep himself from dashing prematurely from his hiding place - but impatience could result in an empty stomach. Instead, he held still, not even twitching when a fly landed upon his nose. Then, when it was impossible for the deer to get any closer, the wolf burst out from under the dead tree, brambles tearing ineffectually at his thick fur. The buck danced back at the sound, lowering its antlers, but it was just a little too late. The wolf had already closed the short distance, slipping beneath the buck's chin and twisting around to grasp the throat.
Warm blood slipped through his teeth, wetting his throat and painting his muzzle a deadly shade. Hooves struck out at him as they both tumbled to the ground, but the wolf simply gripped tighter until all struggles finally ceased. The wolf surveyed his kill, licking his muzzle absently. The carcass was too large for one wolf to drag back to the village on his own, so after tearing a few bites off for himself, he marked the area around his prize and set off for the village at a run.
A few of the wolves who had chosen, like him, to live in the village with the elves were standing near the perimeter. It wasn't hard to convey his message; they could smell the blood on him. Two of them came towards him, ready to assist in bringing the remainder of the buck back to the village to be shared amongst the others. When it seemed they might come too close, his ears flattened themselves against his skull, and a warning growl vibrated deep in his throat. This, too, was a clear and easy message: You may approach me, but do not touch. Knowing his tendency to snap at those who ignored his warnings, the two followers were only too happy to remain several paces behind him.
They had nearly made it to the kill when another scent, just as interesting to the wolf as the buck had been, caught his nose. He skidded to a stop, ears alert. The other wolves circled him, careful to stay out of range of his teeth, questions in their eyes. With a yip and a twist of his head, he sent them off in the proper direction. Then, alone again, he honed in on the new scent. With hardly a second thought, he padded silently towards the source of the smell.
