Marked by fate
Movement.
Four small scraggly wolves. Wild. Heads low.
A growl builds low, warning.
They turn.
Run.
Head lifts.
Eyes scan.
Stillness.
Waiting.
Scanning.
Inhale.
Taste the air.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Relax.
Settle back down.
Rip.
Eat.
Rip.
Crunch.
Delicious.
The crunch of bone in my teeth startles me, confusion fogging everything for a moment. I just brought it down. But when I look, almost all of the deer is gone, the leg bone between my jaws, the sweet marrow exposed.