It was a challenge for Vesper to wake before the dawn.
Light blue eyes peered through the pine trees as the first tendrils of color danced out from the horizon; a small and satisfied smirk tugged on her lips. She had been sitting outside her temporary den for close to a half hour now, watching and waiting, listening to the melodies of the night getting replaced by the heralding of birdsong. Almost carelessly, she turned her head an inch to look at a cardinal perched on the bough beside her. It chirped a tune when she flashed her teeth at it in a smirk, and she watched its red wings disappear through the forest before she followed suit.
Having triumphed over the sunrise, the small tawny coywolf decided that she should conquer breakfast next. She kept her ears pricked for the sound of deer passing through the woods or squirrels venturing to ground. One chattered at her from its place clinging to a trunk, and she growled back, judging it too hard to capture.
The loner trotted onward, however. She did not have the luxury of a pack to take down large prey with—didn’t need one—so she needed to hunt tiny prey frequently to keep a full stomach. Sometimes, when she was lucky, she could take down a fawn—but with autumn approaching, infiltrating a deer herd would be suicidal.
As her large ears swiveled toward the sound of a gurgling stream, her mind explored the possibilities of fishing. It was something she hadn’t really tried before, but anything was worth attempting if it could turn out useful. She definitely wasn’t against having another food source. Deciding to wait for the sun to rise higher and the water to grow less frigid, she trotted alongside the creek until conifers mingled with deciduous trees and golden warmth poured on her black-streaked back.
Vesper settled down on a soft bank, forepaws almost dangling in the water, sharp blue eyes looking for traces of a fish. There were several curious minnows that came up in an attempt to nibble at her toes, but they looked like hardly a mouthful. Frowning, she dipped her head and scooped some of them up in her mouth—then grimaced and coughed when she tried to swallow the wriggling things.
“Fish. Are. Disgusting.”
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