There's no going back.

Frodo Silvertongue · 01-07-2012, 11:44 AM

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word count: 690. I hope turning the deer into reindeer is ok ^^ Also, someone tell me if I'm meant to put "m" on this.... I kind of describe guts :O

Frodo nodded and his gaze shifted away to watch Light as he cracked into Secui. Secui was the fastest and strongest of all three forms, but it didn't do much good when it came to hunting quietly. No, today Frodo planned a different technique altogether. He would be hunting by himself, but Ayasha would track the prey for them. Then Light and he could wander off in different directions.

He listened to Ayasha and grinned. Serena Reserve was a place he knew well, having taught a young female to hunt there once. He knew it's scent off by heart and knew most of it's twists and turns, so it would be a doddle hunting there. Something told him this would be an easy hunt, easier than most. There was three of them, and one of them was just simply there to help them find the prey. They would be definitely bringing something big down today. Right you are. Away we go, plundering pirates! he said, and then followed the girl at once as she headed off to the east. He flanked her, leaving a considerable amount of space by her side but still close all the same, eager and ready.

It was a while of walking before he first cuaght scent of the reindeer herd, but Ayasha seemed to know what she was doing. He waited until she led them close enough so they were in sight, and then looked both of his comrades in the eye. Meet back here, 'kay? You could try somethin' too, Ayasha! he suggested, and then he was off.

It was a small river crossing that the herd of Reindeer made their journey across. At the edge of the herd, the black shadow Frodo lurked, seeking an abandoned calf or a reindeer too sick to put up a fight. Frodo ran through the rich, swirling scent that made his pelt tighten with hunger. He smelt the bloody tatters that swung from the reindeers' antlers, and snuffed the delicious scent of calves. To make the prey run, he let them see him. A big bull put down his head and thundered towards him. Get away from my females! Frodo dodged the lunging antlers and bounded away.

Inbetween the sounds of the deer, he caught an anguished bleating. He loped towards it. A fawn stood shivering and shaking, on a small pebbly island that lay in the middle of the river. Frodo approached, but a cow reared and snorted at him. His ears fell flat against his head and he backed away, tail between his legs.

Shaking the wetness of the river from his fur, he scanned the herd for easier prey. He caught a distant bleat of pain. There. A young buck struggling to climb a bank. It's antelers looked sharp as fangs; one swipe would gut an unwary wolf. But there was something wrong with it's leg.

Hunt spoke Frodo, purely with his body language. The buck sensed his intention and darted. The buck was quick. Frodo was quicker. A chase went on but it was over sooner than it had started. Frodo bit hard and the buck with the broken leg went limp. In a frenzy of hunger, Frodo sank his teeth into it's belly and loosed a flow of delicious, slithery guts. He gulped them fast, leaving only the pouch that smelt of moss. When the buck's belly was empty and his own nearly full, Forod started on the haunches, biting off chunks of hot, juicy meat.

Some ravens hopped over with squarks. He growled them away without lifiting his muzzle. They hopped off again to wait till they could pick the carcass clean. Frodo lifted his head then. He was sticky and matted with blood. A sort of animal frenzy had overcome him, purely because he was in his lupus form. He was not a mature, quirky luperci; he was a wild animal. But his instincts soon faded away, and he backed away from his kill, looking around for Light and Ayasha. The hunt was good. He was strong. If they were not as lucky as him, he would share his kill.

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