Post by Harp on Sept 13, 2014 0:37:40 GMT -6
The slim female kept her head hung low. It was dawn, the stars where twinkling in the purple sky above. Wind rippled Harp's silky black and white pelt, drawing her back a pace. Her bright eyes scanned through the dark terrain of the mountain side. The creek lay just a bit away and her den rest at the top of the large, rocky mountain. Her paws where now surrounded by inch deep snow, pulsing shivers starting from her nose and ending at her tail-tip. She shook her glossy fur and continued her path, leaving snowy paw-prints trailing behind her.
Parting jaws and widened eyes where her first sign of prey. She licked her jowls, ready for a meal. She would have fished today, but the creek would soon be frozen over and she hated the cold. She hadn't wanted to get her paws wet either way. She figured at one point today she would have to, just for the supply. She was also one of the only wolves she knew that actually caught fish, she shrugged - it was hard work.
She caught a sent, her nose lifting to the air in a whiff. Elk was around, but it was new. Most likely with a mother. Strategy started to form in Harp's clockwork. She would first take down the mother then go after the young, it was the only logical way.
She followed the path down towards the sent. A glimpse of light brown, short fur caught her eye. It was a larger elk with young. Only one, however. She got into a crouch, her twisted paw pulled her off track slightly. She let off a sigh, nothing to much to disturb the peaceful animals. She then gazed at her target, fixing her stance and leaped. Her twisted paw pushing off with the most strength, making her quite useful. She had landed square on the mother's back, who now was tussling with Harp to throw her off and get to her young. It wasn't much use, Harp dug her razor sharp fangs into the side of the elk's neck, bursting a vein and watching blood spill from the wound. The elk fell, dead and gazing at the twinkling stars.
Harp's gaze was soon drawn to the young, who was making it's way slowly away. It wouldn't have survived either way, even if Harp decided not to murder the helpless creature. But she had, sliding her slid paw's claws into it's flanks and bringing it to a halt with a tear at the throat.
Harp started to head off, elk young dangling in her jaws and the larger - draped across her upper back. She breathed in the sent of blood, satisfied of her kill - another winter to survive through. But over the strong sent of blood was canine.. Wolves. She growled, not in the mood or condition to battle. She took off towards her den, but turning to face the wolf. She dropped her kill and her cold voice asked very slyly, "What do you want?"
