Darkmoon breathed out slowly, his breath condensing in the cool air. The sun was only just beginning to rise, but it had not yet breached the horizon and so drenched the meadow in a cool blue light. The red flowers, normally vibrant and in stark contrast to the green of the grass, were dull in the poor light, their heads still closed in the absence of the sun's stimulus. He stood still as he surveyed his surroundings, his dark form silhouetted against the morning sky. He was quiet, waiting, watching for any sign of movement or life that would betray his prey. It had been a few days now since the wolf had eaten anything of substance, and he was growing desperate for a decent meal.
A soft rustling sound caught his attention, and his head shot in the direction of the noise. His eyes were almost useless in this light, so he had to rely on his other senses to search out his quarry. His ears swivelled to catch any more sounds, while his snout, raised, tried to scent out any whiff that could betray the location of the secretive presence. He was certain the noise had been made by some sort of creature, not just a symptom of the slight breeze.
Darkmoon was a recent arrival to these lands, his coming a result of hunger and loneliness. It had been a few weeks now since he had become separated from Xolea, his only friend, who he believed had abandoned him. At the beginning he had felt lost and broken, but over time his heart had hardened and he had grown bitter, resentful, the shell of a wolf. However, with nowhere to go and no pack to turn to, Darkmoon was truly without support for the first time, and it had not been easy for him. Yet as he ventured farther north and the lands grew more lush and full of life, he had picked up increasing signs of wolf activity. He did not know if he was ready to meet another of his kind yet, but he knew where there were wolves, there would be prey, and the chance of any easy meal.
This was how he find himself in the meadow, stalking sounds in the morning twilight.
Darkmoon flattened his body to the ground as he heard the rustling again, and he began to creep towards the sound, careful to step lightly in case he should give himself away. His body was tense and he tried to relax, but there was so much riding on this catch that he could not help but feel on edge. His placed his paws so very carefully on the ground, one after the other, but his inexperience inevitably scared the hare off, and he watched in disappointment as it scampered away, his position too far from it to give chase. His hazel eyes watched it careen over the meadow, hopping madly away, until it disappeared over a small rise. He sat back with a sigh, cursing himself for being so clumsy. He did not even know what he had done wrong!