The snow, Kjell decided, reminded him a bit of home.  It wasn’t as if the wolves of Ered Luin had made their home and hearth anywhere particularly cold, but it was at elevation, and snows always began to drift in as the leaves began to change.  With his thick, dark coat grown in, the light flakes didn’t bother him much – it only made it evident he’d have to find a temporary den to bed in until the weather passed.  He didn’t much fancy being wet and cold, and frankly, saw no harm in lazing around and watching the flakes fall until the clouds exhausted themselves.

That was his plan, anyways.

Carefully making his way down the ravine (lest he slip on slick earth and bump into a deleterious root – the last thing he needed was to go rolling down the incline and sprain a paw, or several), he bobbed his head as he eyed an outcropping of rocks.  The other side seemed like it may offer shelter, he reckoned; it was his best bet, anyways.  So focused on getting their safely, the lone wolf did not particularly notice the stink of geese, not until he rounded the stone pyramid and practically stumbled into the small flock.

“Fuck!” he yelped, stumbling back as a particularly large gander exploded off the ground only lengths away.  “What the fuck!?”

Fucking birds, why was it always these awful, horrible birds?  They weren’t this big last time, either.

The gander that had exploded right in front of Kjell’s face had made his escape – for the time being – awkwardly angling into the air as the wolf backpedaled, wide eyes searching the scene as he tried to actually piece together what just happened.  One moment before, and snow was coming down in droves – a moment later, and it seemed like the birds were fighting gravity and exploding into the sky!

When the wolf took a step back, it was then he realized he’d been joined by another; this time, he actually recognized the other.  Female.  Roka.  Ears perked forward, he woofed softly to the-not-quite stranger.  She smelled differently now – no overwhelming song of heat, and she didn’t smell like willow trees either.  His tail still thumped side-to-side, hoping wildly she was feeling as friendly as she did months and months ago.

“Hungry?” he rasped, eyes twinkling with delight.  “Think we’d stand a better chance if we worked t’gether.”  He flashed a bright, toothy smile, nodding towards where the rest of the geese still remained among the grass.  Thoughts of shelter were temporarily abandoned when a fresh meal stood on the line.

Kids.

Sweet Mother above, but children were not anything Kjell was interested in dealing with right now.  His companion here had a pack to deal with the brats, but hey – who was he to turn up an opportunity to spend time with the mysterious spring flight?  Two wolves would hunt better than one.  Whatever she did with her half of the goose once they’d brought it down was her business, quite frankly.

Since the woman was offering, he could only assume she felt capable of both tasks.  Kjell quickly ran both scenarios through his mind, realizing quickly that Morganna was indeed much than he was.  Dark pelts would provide shadowy cover for both, but she probably had more spring when it came to catching a goose in mid-flight.  “I’ll flush,” he decided after a moment, bobbing his head once.  The words were no more than a harsh whisper, but then Kjell was already hunkering back down, his dark frame disappearing into the tall grass.  He waited only long enough for Morganna to do the same before he began to creep forward, one step at a time.  While time was of the essence, rushing would only alert the birds to their presence; if they sprung before the female was in place, the entire flock would be lost, and their bellies would still be empty.

Kjell gave the female a few moments to begin her movement before he too began to slink through the grass, not willing to waste their opportunity because he’d gotten impatient.  Ears swiveled wildly as he listened: listened to the princess creep through the dead and drying blades, listened to the geese waddling aimlessly, listened even to the wind as it rustled restlessly, blowing against his face.  To be honest, he wasn’t sure if a bird’s sense of smell was as good as a rabbit’s or a deer’s, but he wasn’t willing to find out.

With his lighter belly almost scuffing the ground, the loner came to a halt, nose twitching as he tried to pinpoint Morganna.  He gave the pack wolf a moment or two beyond the falling silence, assuming she was in position.  It would be no good if he spoiled it before she was ready.  With no way to signal her without also alerting the flock to his presence, Kjell swallowed and steeled himself.  (Friggin’ birds.  He hated birds.)

With nothing else to delay him, Kjell exploded forward from the tall grass, barking and snarling as he went.  Teeth flashed and jaws snapped, ears pinned tightly against his head as the flock burst into a cacophony of angry squawks and flurried wings.  He could barely see anything in the chaos, but he had to hope that meant the same for the winged demons; hopefully, they could not see Morganna coming, either.