The savage hunger of the wolf gnawed at my stomach as I stalked the rabbit. It had been full day since I last ate, maybe more, and now the hunger was becoming a hinderance, slowing me down. I needed to take this prey quickly and be on my way, I had many miles left to go.

The rabbit paused, it’s brown ears perked high as it rose up on its hind legs and sniffed the air. It would not smell me, but the wind was filling my nose with the scent of it. She was two years old, an adult in her prime, and had birthed two litters earlier this year.

I tread closer, slowly, watching for the tail-tale signs she was about to bolt. Her muscles tensed and I reacted, moving fractions of a second before her own neurons fired, instincts telling her to flee. I’m not the swiftest wolf, my grandfather was much faster, but I am the king of the chase. I have the instincts for it, Grandfather always said I knew which way my prey would turn before it did.

She tried to change directions, but I was already there, jaws clamping down on her neck. Her spine snaps with a quick jerk of my head, and it’s over. With a silent thank you for her sacrifice I devoured her ravenously.

The blood flowed west, pooling on the ground. It had for weeks now. Something dark loomed that way, something, I was sure that each footstep brought me closer to my death. But Mother and Father were calling, I had to answer.

A sound caught my ears as I finished my meal. My senses perked, and I saw a LARGE man, just a few yards away, cracking his knuckles as he stared at me from a squat. I sniffed again, I was near a local pack’s territory, but still outside of it, He said not a word, but I read the question in his body language.

<Father calls me west, cousin> I motioned the direction I would head with my nose, away from their home. He responded with a grunt, I felt his eyes watching me as I picked up a what little was left of the rabbit to chew on as I walked. Each drop of blood that fell landed in front of me, guiding my path.

West.