Though spring was creeping into Canada, it was not as warm as some of the more interior places Salem had been. Frost clung to the ground in the pre-dawn hours, and a low fog danced through the tall and still bare trees. It was just above the freezing mark temperature-wise and in his eyes, almost the perfect time to hunt solo.
One leg after the another, he moved on auto-pilot as he trailed a small herd of deer. They were nothing to brag about, though he had yet to ascertain which - if any - were lame. What he was most aware of in the stillness around him how close they both lingered to claimed grounds. The deer were edgy because of the concentrated smells they came across and though hid hackles were raised, Salem remained calm and collected, unafraid and shameless in what he was doing.
It was perhaps a dangerous game they played, they the prey and he a wandering free agent. Often in such a situation they were unfavorable things for those pack-dwelling wolves, but being discovered was half the fun, right?