Amber eyes locked onto its prey, unblinking. The wolf crept slowly forward towards its prey, a doe and her wobbly legged fawn. The winter was harsh, the wolf was thin and starving. What most would consider cruel the wolf would deem necessary to feed her pups all huddled back in her den. She felt she wasn't alone, she felt a presence of a greater hunter than she, but she did not take her eyes from her prey. She sensed this other hunter was not here to harm her or hinder her hunt, but to help her.
Beside her was a man, wrapped in wolf skins, a wolf head pulled over his own. He crept low enough to the ground to be mistaken as a wolf, were it not for the knife clutched within his hand, his stormy blue eyes locked onto the prey, unblinking as well. He knew the packs were famished.
The she-wolf and the man stopped at the edge of the small moonlit grove, their eyes never leaving the prey. They seem to come to a silent, unspoken agreement on how to proceed.
With a snap of twigs and a snarl from both beast and man, the two hunters leapt forward into the grove. Four legs faster than two raced ahead, picking the fawn as her own, for it is easier for a lone wolf to pick off the young than the mature adults.
Two legs raced forward, leaping over logs and stumps after the doe who let out a shrill cry and ran through the woods in a staggering pattern. The hunter felt that the doe was slowing down and tiring. The huntsman leap forward, and with tooth, nail and knife, he claimed his hunt. He stopped and took the hunt up upon his shoulders and made his way back to the grove where the she-wolf was.
He kept a respectful distance as she ate her fill. She realized there was not much to the fawn before the Man hunter came into her view with an entire doe on his shoulders. He laid out the doe before the she-wolf and stepped back, head lowered and watching her.
The wolf trotted around the corpse, making sure it was safe and fresh. Noting that it was, she suddenly threw back her head and howled for her pack to come to her and help her with it. The man hesitated, throwing his head back and joining her chorus. Soon the grove was filled with other wolves, young and old. A few younger wolves came up to the man, curious about him, leaning in and stretching their necks to sniff at him, darting away when the man moved. The huntsman let out a soft chuckle, watching their antics. The pack seemed to not mind him- seeming to be familiar with him.
After he spent some time with the pack, he picked himself back up and returned back to his humble little farmstead and home. Back to the warm bed and even warmer embrace of the man he grew to love. To the strong arms and sturdy chest that protected him, to the gentle hands that wiped away his tears. Back home to the raven-black hair that dusted the pillow beside him that he could get lost in.
Perhaps if things were different, he would have let himself become more and more wild, more and more feral and lose his touch of humanity, however, he had something bringing him back.
