Tithe

It was so easy for Tithe to slip into the role of hunting companion and brother in arms. Almost as if he had been born and raised for the position. A childhood spent training to fight, to hold his own, be loyal to the ones he loved had built him into the fighter and hunter he was. The purpose behind his training gave him the quiet ambition to eventually seek, find, and hold his place wherever he was to find it.

Fluidly he loped into his place behind the doe, following Sleekwing’s unspoken direction. Just because Tithe was trained and taught the ways of hunt and battle, did not mean he had the years of experience to formulate a plan that would bring down a doe. He understood the basics and knew the logic. Get your prey more tired than you, use their weaknesses against them, take them down swiftly. Trusting in the knowledge of the years behind his companion, he obeyed the commands. After all, it was not his kill to lose and who was he to steal an honest meal from someone who deserved it.

His steely eyes flicked to the other as he loped up next to him and followed the motion to the injured leg of the deer. As he ran, he nodded his understanding. At that time he split his mind, half focused on the deer and his positioning compared to it, and half on the other wolf. If he missed any of the timing from either of them he felt as though this hunt would end in failure. He watched and ran alongside the doe, readying his muscles to jump at the moment’s cue. As soon as Sleekwind leapt at the hidquarters, Tithe watched the doe fall on her injury and sprang at her throat, his fangs bared to the gums.

No sound came from the squire as his teeth sank violently into the doe’s neck. He bit and ripped as viciously as he could, trying to take the creature’s life as swiftly as possible. Tithe held a deep respect for all living creatures, including the prey he needed to kill in order to live. Where many wolves would kill with howls of victory or strength, he took the lives quietly and quickly in hopes of lessening the prey’s fear in their final seconds. Blood ran from his mouth and he sank his fangs deeper and deeper into the deer’s soft flesh, feeling the live flow out of it as quickly as the blood itself.