It was cold out in the early morning, but not as cold as it had been the past several days. Felix crawled out of the pack den and gave a soft shake, inhaling the crisp air as he gazed around the dim light. Dawn was still far off, with only the first rays trickling over the horizon, but it did not deter the boy. He had a plan. A very important plan, and this was a good time. At least, he thought it was. If he messed up, no one would be awake to see him laugh, and there would be plenty of time throughout the day if his first (several) attempts went awry.
Deacon had taught him how to hunt things, after all, and while the Macieo had no intention of going after anything large like they had, a snowshoe hare seemed small enough. And there were plenty of them. And hopefully, Oula would be proud.
It took the boy several hours, but his pre-dawn planning had paid off. The morning was still young when he carried the freshly bloodied kill to the mouth of the pack den, dropping it down gently as he poked his nose in. “Momma? You in there?” he whispered, brows furrowing. “You awake?”