Sex: FemaleThe way she entered the wildwood was different this time. Chantille had no idea as to where she was. Her paws carried her into a dark forest, even darker with the storm clouds above. Though all seemed gloomy, the creamy coated woman had a small smile on her face. She hummed a soft tune as she padded along, ears perked and listening to every sound. Chantille paused and lifted her muzzle upward. Her nostrils flared as she took in the air, then spoke softly to herself "My, seems like there's a storm on the way." Shelter would be a necessity when the storm arrived.
Though she had no idea of where she was, Chantille did not feel uncomfortable whatsoever. She was a very kind woman, opening herself up to new experiences and introducing herself to wolves whom she has not been acquainted with. Chant came to a slow as the scent of prey entered her nose. Enticing, she thought as she gingerly took a few steps forth. The scent was growing stronger... but what was it?
There was a call into the quiet air, and Chantille immediately knew that her game was of an avian species. She slowly paced behind a tree and waited. If nothing came, that would be alright. She had the patience of a saint. After about ten minutes, Chantille nearly jumped out of her pelt as the clucking call sounded once more. Her ears flattened as the bird entered view. It had a brilliant white ring around its neck, and that is where Chantille targeted. She awaited till the bird got close as a hunter would do with a turkey. Her breathing grew shallow as the bird was within range. If she didn't move now, there would likely be no other chance. Chant pushed off the ground with her hind legs, spraying up a minor amount of soil against the trunk of the tree she had hidden by. The pheasant began to run and flap its wings before Chantille's paws batted it down. She felt the plump body press against the ground as she did so. Her head lowered, and with a quick bite, the bird's struggle was over.
Chantille's tail wagged wildly as she began to feast on her meal. It was a fortunate catch, and quite delicious at that. She teared away at the breast feathers before her dining began.
"speech"