Each movement that he makes is precise as he waits, pressed low to the ground to shield himself from site as his pale white eyes track the movements of the cocky racoon. It has found a rabbits warren and pokes it's head in a few of the holes in search of an easy meal. The tender flesh of newborn rabbits is a calling that makes it forget there is a world out there bigger than itself. Not to mention creatures like Arthfael who are just as hungry for he had not eaten in days, preferring to fast at times to keep his mind sharp. He did not like losing and especially did not like losing in a hunt so he took precautionary measures to ensure that it didn't happen. Besides, it sharpened his senses for when the body was hungry it searched it's hardest for food. Scents were enhanced and he had niggling feeling within him that his nose would come in handy soon.
The perfect moment arises for the racoon shoves it's head in up to it's shoulders, those eerie little fingers digging into the dirt to reach for a meal, and Arthfael leaps up on quiet paws. A whisper of movement is all it will hear before his jaws snap over it's spine and then it is flung back and forth until life flees. The circle of life - the hunter becomes the hunted. Not much hunted wolves save cougars, bears, and other wolves. A disgusting past time that did not create an iota of curiosity from Arthfael, merely contempt. Such creatures were beyond a measure of saving.
With the fat racoon nestled in his jaws Arthfael heads up the foothills, dipping down into slopes and climbing back up tirelessly, ignoring the ache in his belly or the discomfort of his jaws. It is difficult after a hunt to track another scent, especially with the racoon practically shoving it's way up his nostrils, but he focuses anyways until he finds a fairly fresh scent of his friend. He tracks Viserion to a spring fed from the mountain caps, a stream that runs rapidly down the foothills and will flush out eventually to sea. The water is always ice cold, crisp, and so clean that Arthfael dislikes drinking anywhere else in Molodian.
Spying his golden friend, Arthfael moves up beside of him and carelessly drops the food to the ground.