It is a new land, a new place- unlike that in which he has ever been. There are fields, fields that stretch far and wide and further then he knows in all directions. Yet if he sees beauty within it he does not respond, if he feels excitement he shows no sign, merely staring- that strangely beautiful child with the eyes so hauntingly green and the long, long fur that already grows wispy and sweeps back from him. He had come with Mother and with Father, because Mother and Father are rarely apart, they travel together, sleep together, exist and hunt together and this he knows. This he understands. What he does not understand is the grass. It is long and tall and straight. Up and up and up it goes above his short puppy form. He likes it, likes the way it repeats and repeats and is always up, always the same colour. So predictable. He likes predictable, his little mind fascinated with patterns and forms and shapes. He likes lines and edges- anything he can follow, anything that can guide him. He likes brother- from Brother is a line to follow, he likes Mother for the shapes of colour that allow him to recognise her. From Father he is distant. He knows, he understands what is dangerous and when he will and will not be tolerated. For he is a child of the wilds, a child of instinct and little else- unscathed by the lash of emotions and trivial thoughts. He exists- to exist and little else though his mind has already come to display a cunning and sharpness unrivalled.

He is quick within his mind, swift, assured. He learns- faster than Mother, faster than Father, seeks weakness upon others so readily and seizes upon it. Though for now his targets are lizards and frogs, sticks and shrubs. He is yet to grow after all- into the thing he will one day be. He moves forward, ebony frame loping atop the heated earth, warmed by the midday sun as he paces, head inclined upwards- watching ach head of grass as it passes, over and over and over. He stops suddenly, small black frame freezing upon the earth as emerald eyes widen and flicker, body held tense, erect, each sense seeming to reach for the world around it as black lips pull back from white puppy teeth. He can sense another, smell them on the wind, though where they are coming from he does not know as his own frame lowers suddenly, predatory- into that long grass.

His response is near instantaneous, for he has been taught to respond as such, lowering rapidly to the earth to glide along it like liquid oil, concealed from sight as he does, searching…searching for the other he can smell but cannot see as that white and red tail trails behind. He is a Hunter, even in his youth, his desire for chase surely clear in these moments- his desire to kill not yet so intact for his young mind does not yet perceive prey and food- or wolf and food as his sire and dam so often partake of. For now he merely hunts as instinct demands of him, moving to crouch down behind a fallen log- reptilian eyes of emerald green peering out from beneath his makeshift shelter as he waits, like a coiled viper….ready to spring on whoever it is he hears coming heckles raising already along his spine in response to this ‘other’.