Unfortunately for Shrapnel, Sagacity had wordlessly assumed the same as he- that her partner would be the one to flush out the deer and she would give chase when the time came. The silence which was gifted to them by her inaction, however, made it very clear that he did not intend to be the one to spook the herd. Having found a good place to crouch, Sagacity finally stood and meandered forward, slow, low to the ground, ears slicked back. If Shrapnel wasn't going to move, then she would. She only hoped he'd decided to wait, and hadn't changed his mind.

She approached as much as she could but a wolf's strength was not in ambush, but in chasing down the prey, singling one out and eventually running it until it couldn't escape or fight back. She'd seen cougars hunt before- those stealthy felines could get almost a hair's breadth away from the prey before attacking, but wolves were of a different technique. They had strength in numbers.

Once close enough, Sagacity bolted, splitting the herd cleanly into two sections- one, a larger group of healthy and strong deer and the other a smaller group which consisted, fortunately, mainly of the weaker older deer and a few young ones. Her placement couldn't have been better- naturally, they swerved, wanting to rejoin the stronger group, but Sagacity's speed brought her into that gap, forcing them away and into a run.

As the moments ticked off lazily, it was only the bleat of the distant deer that rang in his ears. Shrapnel was about to venture out to start the ball rolling when he saw her spring from the worn grass. As the deer split, he vaulted from lying to running in fluid motion, taking to the open plain with bloodlust daring to lay at the fringes of his mind. While speed may not have been his finest strength, he caught up with little issue, focused on making good on his word. Hunger bided its time within him as well; it had woke from what felt like a lengthy slumber.


He enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, untouched by the fears that plagued his prey. He feared not the lashing out of hooves as he met Sagacity out in the plain, instead responding with flashes of teeth and snaps. She drove them well, and like their prior travels together, he meshed with their motions out of memory and desire for flesh. He snapped sharply at one doe's hind leg as it ventured too close, missing. But it came back again as she tried to wildly veer out of his way and reach, giving him another chance to drive her to exhaustion with a firm nip. Strong enough to break and tear skin, but not enough to stop her, only just enough to mark her as the one that suited his hunt.


Feeble but not old, the doe was simply a product of bad timing. A creature who had become weary out of laziness, Shrapnel instinctively knew they would tire it in due time. As wolves, their adrenaline would run with their stamina, and that was something they both had to burn. He snapped again at her, snarling as she started to veer away from him and towards the herd once more. But her path was ill-fated, sending her towards his much smaller, fleet-footed companion.

For Sagacity, the first burst of speed and cutting a deer from the herd was one of the most exhilarating parts of a hunt, second only to the kill. What followed, when the chosen doe had been singled out and the others herded away by the silver female while her companion focused on badgering the doe he'd selected, was a much more mundane chase. One in which the deer's speed would keep her just out of harm's way, but only for so long, and then the endurance shared by both wolves would bring the prey to its knees. Having driven the others away, Sagacity flanked the doe as well, veering in to nip at the doe's heel which flashed past her face as it bucked.

For now, she could reserve her speed. So long as the deer did not go into territory too dense for them to follow at speed, it was simply a matter of time. She settled back into a more relaxed gallop, every now and again putting on a burst of speed to exhaust the deer by driving it forward. The doe flew onward, but it was showing signs of tiring even though fear urged it to rush onwards. Perhaps in the corner of her eye the doe had caught a glimpse of a figure robed in black, for her mouth frothed and jaws worked as she drank in as much air as possible. It was far from accepting its fate still, but its body could not match the pace at which its soul begged it to move.

The two wolves would prove to be too great a foe for the beast, which was felled by a swift move from the male. The two held onto the deer while it slowly faded from life to death, and then enjoyed the spoils of their labour before setting off on their own ways, glad to have seen an old friend once again.