Haha, sorry for the crappiness. Just wanted to post for you!
Word Count → 392
Skoll was beginning to like stealing from weasels. They were small creatures, smaller than most rabbits, which meant that it was easy to bully them into submission although they always put up a fight. However, despite their tiny size, the critters were excellent killers. Already the boy had seen one kill a rabbit, and the one he was currently following had found a small family of voles.
One by one, the stoat dispatched them, and when it was done, the golden wolf moved in. The bristling secui form was enough to make the creature rethink attacking this time, although it shrieked at him and tried to charge. Slamming his paw into its head, he rolled it over and over in the grass and barked when it managed to find its feet. Still giving him a death glare, the creature zipped in close to the boy again, grabbing one of the voles and darting away again before he could smack it a second time.
A little bit of meat was better than no meat, though, and Skoll wolfed down the voles pretty quickly. He didn’t use to like the idea of stealing even from lesser predators, but his journey with Terra had showed him how to use tricks. He still didn’t think he’d fall to scavenging long-dead prey or taking a meal from a fellow wolf or bear, but at least he knew how.
Wagging his tail, the blonde youth trotted on again. Some endurance was sacrificed for the strength and speed of this form, but he didn’t press himself hard as he explored the area.
Eventually, he realized that he was heading toward Casa di Cavalieri—Adelle’s pack. That realization made him scowl, and he paused for a second, ginger ears flicking down against his broad skull. Even when he wasn’t thinking about her, he was thinking about her, and the whole thing just made him uncomfortable.
He shook his head and marched on again, expression dark. Why shouldn’t he just continue on in this direction? The girl didn’t bother him. The butterflies in his tummy shouldn’t dictate where he walked.
His tread took on a marching quality, which was essentially a lot of stamping around. As he stormed through the grass, he accidentally flushed a grouse from its hiding place, jerking back in surprise as its feathers rained down on him.
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