Uziel lifted his nares and inhaled deeply. He judged that he was getting closer as the scent got stronger. However, he also sensed the presence of others of his kind. Whether or not they were a threat remained to be seen. But if he could smell the carcass, so could they. His pace quickened. The male's long legs stretched out and carried him swiftly across the cold ground. Ember-like eyes glanced around warily. His fast walk became a jog. A rumble from his gut reminded him that this would probably be the only meal he would get for a while so it was of great import to get his fill. Due to the shortage, it was likely to make everyone a little snippy - not that he was judging. But he was hell bent on getting to the body first. That way he could grab as much as he could before company showed up.

He skidded to a halt when he finally came across the rotting flesh of a once proud moose. Uziel could discern that a relative of the wolves had beaten him to it. He hated coyotes with a bitter passion. They were always skittering around and looked like trouble wherever they went. However, there was some meat left that he could pillage. Before diving in he carefully scanned the area for unwanted guests. The last thing he needed was someone sneaking up on him.

Luckily, if anyone was getting any ideas they had another thing coming. Being an impossibly large wolf did have its advantages. One of those upsides was that he could pretty much tear someone apart with a decisive bite to the back of the neck. He could sit on another wolf and crush them without trying - not that he had done that in the past. Generally, smart ones avoided picking fights with him anyway. He often tried to instigate fights with dumber opponents. It was in his nature to fight. Whether it was fighting for a cause or just to fight because he was bored, he enjoyed it. He could take beating as well as dish it out. He had been bested several times and shrugged it off. In spite of his inordinately willful personality, he could accept when he was in the wrong.... sort of. There would have to be a rematch, of course.

Assuring himself of the lack of wolf presence, the agouti male ravaged what was left of the rotting corpse. The meat was cold and tough from sitting outside for a while. He had to grip the muscle tissue and throw his weight back to rip off large chunks for consumption. The softer bits had already been taken by the previous owners so he would just have to deal with the rest. Every so often he would look up to maintain a vigilant perimeter before tearing into the moose again. Thankfully moose were large beasts and could easily fill several wolves his size.

With a mouthful of meat he gazed about and listened intently. He swore he could hear voices. He turned his head and listened for the direction. They were within distance of the carcass so he would have to either eat fast or stick around and see who it was. He chose to stick around. The scents told him that there was at least two wolves. The subtle variations in independent imprints said they didn't belong to a group. This only created more spirit of inquiry within the man. He wanted to know what was going on. Curiosity got the better of him and he waited to see if the other wolves would appear.

There were two types of wolves: pack wolves and loners. Pack wolves posed a larger threat to a single lone wolf like himself. While he prided himself on being a formidable combatant, a number of hungry wolves would still win over his sheer size. Lone wolves were a threat to each other simply because they lacked the strength of the pack. They had to fight for what was their's without the aid of other pack members. From that point it was a toss up between who would win in a fight.

Not knowing what would happen next, he swallowed his mouthful and snapped off another. The future was never certain so he smartly decided to eat while he could and let the rest play by ear.