He was so close, and yet... these things took a certain patience, a diligence which baffled most young wolves. But Locke was unlike most, his movements fluid and slow. Ducks were a precarious sort of game. These creatures were cautious, easily stirred, and when spooked, they would take off into the air without hesitation. The trick was to get close without detection, to remain but a piece of scenery in their world until the very last second.

There was another monster which practiced this art. The swamp was littered with them from corner to corner. With their beastly jaws and scaled armor, alligators were a force to be reckoned with. Their powerful tails and webbed claws propelled them through water at dangerous speeds for something so large, and on land they were just as swift. They were killers, primitive things with a most singular mind. And still, the young demon of Iromar held no fear for such things.

From across the small section of bog, a second flock of ducks shot out of the reeds with a chorus of garbled fowl speech. Though the ebon wolf continued on his steady path, knowing deviation meant losing his prey entirely, murky gold eyes shifted in their sockets to study the commotion. The grass from which the birds had sprung shuddered with light motion well after the ducks were settled back into the water, joining those which he was currently stalking. They had fled from something, another predator in the area.

He might not have been so moved by this realization had his peripheral vision remained clear, but before the demon boy shifted his gaze forward once more, he couldn’t help but notice a ripple trailing behind him quite a ways away. It was subtle, the water’s surface barely breaking, but he knew the signature well. As he was stalking his meal, a beast of the swamps was stalking him. Well, then... He would have to be extra careful with this execution.

Timing would be everything. Keeping tabs on the gator behind him every so often, Locke continued to stalk forward with a placid determination. Hunter or hunted, he would have this meal. It had been decided before the presence of the reptilian predator, and so it would remain. And he was so close, only a few more careful steps and-

The grazing ducks went silent, their postures turning more aware as the grasses across the water danced soundlessly. Strange, indeed. And most unwelcome. It would not due now to have his prey spooked by another. But, Locke was not so lucky, as a red-marked child threw herself into view atop a log, gesturing in his direction and raising her red banner in warning.

There were several things that happened all at once.

Like a living storm, the ducks became a flurry of movement, taking wing in a ripple affect. Those closest to the girl perched delicately atop the log, farthest away from him, flew first, their neighbors following suit one after another. Locke was but a step away from his mark when the mallard he’d had in his sights turned its beady eyes on his fellows, his wings twitching with the sudden urge to join them in their escape from the mysterious danger. But the wolf moved first, large paws pushing against the silt and launching him out of the water. His front feet touched the muddy ground, rear paws quick to straddle on either side and push him in a swift lunge toward the fleeing duck. A crack shot sound fired behind him as a set of monstrous jaws closed on the open air where his haunches had been a fraction of a second ago and, at the same time, Locke’s own muzzle closed around the soft breast of the mallard just as it’s wings began to spread.

The demon closed his eyes as a large set of wings buffeted his face, but his limbs never stopped moving. Like lightning, the boy took off, using the long legs Fate had bestowed upon him to force distance between himself and the alligator. The duck was quickly fading, its wings falling still and heartbeat slowing to a dull throb against his teeth. It was a few moments later that he stopped, his breath evening instantly thanks to his supreme genetics, and he looked over his shoulder to see the swamp beast slipping back into the water, clearly uninterested in chasing such a fleet creature as himself. Good.

Now onto the second problem.

Locke’s murky gold eyes turned next to the whelp balancing precariously on the log, taking a second to adjust his hold on the duck between his jaws. The interfering little prat had nearly cost him his prize, and that was not something he looked upon lightly. Did she think him oblivious? Did she think him helpless? She had stepped into business which was not her own, and he would see to it that she learned better. After all, it took a pack to raise a child, did it not?

The ebon brute wasted no more time, taking off at a full out dash for the girl’s position and leaving a trail of bilge water spray behind him as the swamp ran free of his silken coat. His eyes trained on her with absolute focus, Locke tore through the swamp grass with purpose. He came upon her but a blur of black fur, throwing himself at the small girl with the intent of knocking her into the water and trampling her over in the mud. It matter little whether she was still on the log or had managed to make it to the silty bank, his course was adjusted to hit her straight on with his chest either way.

When he was through with the little Cretan, she would know better than to interrupt a real demon’s hunt.