Lykaon moved through the forest. There had been no packs that he smelled near here. Elysium was near, but as of yet he had not been accepted into their fold. So he decided on this day he would hunt. Keep himself busy and practiced. Each footstep, he breathed in and out. Yellow eyes on the horizon. He opened his claws and dug them deep into the soil. Mouth open testing the air. He sifted the soft snow through his paws. Snow made it hard to feel the prey beneath his weathered paws. But it sure made it easier to spot them.

Snow landed upon broad shoulders, laying in a coat of frost and rime. He tilted his head, ears perked forward. A flash of brown. Soft doe eyes and he was off, in pursuit. No growl, no sound. Just footfalls heavy on fallen snow. It whipped against his eyes and coated his muzzle in it's glory. But he followed the doe as she ran. The thrill of the chase giving him more fire in his veins.