monax

Ezekiel de le Poer · 02-13-2012, 06:30 PM

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+3 Forest of Nod, early morning. Zeke is in his lupus form.

The hunting behavior of the coyote was one based upon his history. Ezekiel had spent nearly two years living as a loner—his size and intelligence had aided him in this matter, but it was the instincts and the patterns he had followed that truly aided him. Observing other predators had been a key factor in learning, followed by the experience of failure. More often than not, he failed to bring down larger animals. With a weight more relative to that of a gun-dog, his skills fell to the endurance and speed granted by the coyote lineage left. This was why despite his obvious canine body, Ezekiel hunted like a bird.

It was not as if he had the capabilities to strike from the air. Had God intended for four legged animals to fly they would have been born with wings. As it stood, though, when Ezekiel did not hunt in his Optime form he favored a pattern of stalking that was based on speed rather than simple strength.

He was low against the ground, ears flat and tail even with his spine. Though his golden pelt was a source of constant trouble during the winter, the blackened sable-print pattern along his shoulders and spine worked well to conceal him. Amber eyes were focused ahead, locked on the marmot hole. He had been lucky to spot it before tromping all over such a thing—the rabbit was a small prize compared to a fat groundhog.

Ezekiel’s tactic was a simple one. When the animal emerged, he leapt into the air and brought his full weight down on its back. The woodchuck squealed, but teeth connected to the fat body even as the shock of the attack hit. Several savage, sharp shakes took the life out of the animal with little difficulty. Pleased with himself, the Aquila carried his prize off to a more secluded section of the forest to eat.

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