(( Clementine Dhaska will be unaware of anyone watching him throughout the hunt!))

Dhaska’s dreams of leading a family were always dashed by his doubtful father, who didn’t think he would ever make it to his second year. His father always saw him as a reckless whelp, and that his arrogance would get him killed before he ever stepped foot outside his natal territory.

You can’t go out expecting the valley to respect you. That’s stupid. You have to show the prey and competitors that you’re a survivor. You don’t have what it takes to prove that.

And yet, he did manage to prove that, long enough to see him through his prime and well into his elder years. He sired many healthy pups, maintained a respectable pack and enormous territory, proving without a shadow of a doubt that he was indeed a survivor. Not only that, but he was given a chance to prove it twice!

His father was right in some aspects, though. The wilderness was always watching, especially other wolves — potential competitors, or even mates — so he needed to advertise his strongest attributes as a survivor; strength, willpower, wisdom, and ferocity. A good solo hunt was always a wise choice, it displayed his ability to track and obtain sustenance. Even if the hunt failed, he would return, and the forest would see that he’s steadfast in his resolve, no matter what the ordeal is.

So, Dhaska set off at a brisk trot, searching for a scent that would hopefully lead him to prey. He still had the memory of his first solo hunt when he first struck out alone, so the experience was somewhat fresh in his mind, but it had been so long since he had been without hunting companions that he felt he would be a little rusty… Nothing a bit of determination and patience can’t fix, though.

(tracking; d20/3)

The young male had his nose to the ground for a while, but never picked up on anything worth following up on. Old tracks and the scent of other predators, nothing he needed to waste time tracking. With a sigh, Dhaska paused in the midst of the forest, lifting his nose to hopefully catch something airborne.

Clementine had spotted the male wolf long before he'd ever come into view. The she-wolf lay hidden beneath the shelter of a fallen cedar, her cream-and-russet coat blending surprisingly well with the dappled earth and dead leaves. Holly-green eyes followed his every movement with quiet amusement. She didn't know the male at all, but she knew he carried himself like a wolf with something to prove. And, more importantly, she knew he was hunting.

A faint smirk tugged at her muzzle.

If he managed to bring down something worthwhile, perhaps she'd save herself the trouble of chasing her own dinner. There was no harm in accepting an opportunity when one presented itself. Besides, if he was any sort of gentleman, perhaps he'd be willing to share.

If not... well...a girl had her options.

Clementine's smile sharpened ever so slightly. She shifted her paws beneath her chest, careful not to rustle the undergrowth, and settled in to watch. The male's nose traced the ground, then lifted to the breeze, searching, thinking, working. Patiently, she waited. For now, she was nothing more than another pair of eyes hidden in the forest, silent and still as stone, curious to see whether Dhaska's determination would reward him with prey—or leave him empty-pawed.

Dhaska

(base hunter 1/5)

Eventually, he did catch the scent of something worthwhile, and unmistakable; elk. They were a familiar sight all throughout his life, they were his and his family’s main source of food, and he’d come to know the beasts well. He knew how they ticked, how they lived, and what they did with the change of the seasons. Since it was summer, they were most likely found in higher elevations to distance themselves from the sweltering temperatures of the lowlands.

He was keenly aware of eyes trained on him, but he didn’t care to investigate who they belonged to; he was expecting to be watched.

Dhaska eventually found the herd, cows grazing with their young, easy targets if he could avoid getting turned into a red paste by their mothers. Though, ruefully it appeared Dhaska missed out on the opportunity to hunt them while they were young and vulnerable in the grass, stashed away by the cows while they left to graze.

No matter. A hungry wolf was always a determined one.

He began by making himself known, stalking around the herd while they eyed him warily. It was an ancient game of patience; both predator and prey showing that they were unshakeable. However, with the lives of so many calves on the line, the risk was too great for them to hold their ground, so they began running. Their escape was inelegant as cows and calves attempted to reunite with one another for safety, causing each individual to bump shoulders with another.

(rolling for a trip; d20/5)

Unfortunately, this did not present an opportunity, but the hunter continued the chase. Patience. Your prey will reveal itself.

(weakened elk; d20/15 (calf))

Not every member of the herd remained fit and healthy, and eventually, the weakest link would reveal itself. A calf struggled to keep up with its mother, visibly struggling to maintain pace despite only having begun to flee, its mouth agape as it attempted to supply its sickly lungs with oxygen. It slowed, distancing itself from the herd, and Dhaska dove for the opportunity.

The youngling let out an alarmed squeak as the wolf latched to its ankle. It stopped to confront him, its mother unaware that her calf had been left behind, Dhaska making sure to check she wasn’t charging at him as he circled his prey.

(mama comes to the rescue; d20/9)

As Dhaska seized the calf’s neck to begin wrangling it to the ground, thundering hooves of an individual elk had the wolf bolting out of the way, just narrowly avoiding a mighty kick. The calf’s mother charged him, but Dhaska dodged out of the way, allowing him to reanalyze the hunt with this new, inconvenient addition. No matter, it was nothing he couldn’t work around. If her calf was weak, maybe it was hereditary.

(successful hunt; d20/4)

Unfortunately, that was not the case. The cow was perfectly capable of fending Dhaska off, so much so that her ferocity made him decide to let them go. Allowing them to get a head start gave him the opportunity to follow from a distance, and watch for another advantageous angle to reveal itself.

Not all hunts were a success, some went on longer than the hunter preferred, but Dhaska determined that it was better to be alive to hunt tomorrow rather than being dead. For a second time.

Clementine moved like a shadow through the trees, keeping a comfortable distance between herself and the hunt. Her paws made hardly a sound against the forest floor, and her bright green eyes never once left the young male.

An elk herd.

Ambitious.

One ear flicked as she watched him make himself known, pushing the herd into motion. There was skill there, certainly, but not enough to earn her admiration just yet. Plenty of wolves could chase prey. Plenty could spot weakness in a herd.

The true measure of a hunter came after things went wrong. And, as if the forest wished to answer her thoughts, they did. The calf faltered. Dhaska seized his chance. Then came the mother. Clementine's gaze narrowed as the cow charged, hooves striking the earth like thunder. She expected panic, perhaps stubbornness—some foolish, prideful attempt to force the kill.

Instead, he yielded.

Interesting.

She slowed her pace, weaving between the pines as the elk disappeared ahead of him. Her expression remained largely unimpressed, but there was the faintest hint of curiosity now. Most wolves hated to abandon a hunt once they'd tasted the possibility of success. Pride often made them reckless.

Would his?

Her tail gave a lazy flick. Would he finally decide the effort wasn't worth it and turn away empty-bellied? Or would he keep going, patient and persistent, waiting for the herd to make another mistake?

Clementine found that she genuinely wanted to know. So she continued after him, silent as ever, her russet-and-cream form melting through the shadows while she watched to see which kind of wolf this male truly was.

Dhaska

(base hunter 2/5)

After letting himself rest and reconstitute his approach, Dhaska galloped after the herd once more. The calf was still struggling, it hadn’t even caught up with its mother, who had already rejoined the herd, so the male dove for it, grabbed it by the ankle. It bleated in alarm as the wolf wrapped his jaws around its neck, alerting its mother, but the attack startled the herd. In the frenzy of bodies attempting to flee, the cow was prevented from running to her young’s aid in a timely manner, and Dhaska seized the opportunity.

He had only moments to spare before the cow arrived to kick him off her struggling young, but he was nothing if not efficient. The calf was too weak to resist as the male dragged it to the ground, the lack of oxygen ultimately killing it by the time the cow charged in. Dhaska bolted off to avoid getting an injury, and respectfully allowed the mother to inspect her dead young. After a moment of investigating, the cow determined her calf to be deceased, and abandoned it to join the safety of the others.

A necessary sacrifice, and one Dhaska would not take for granted.

Relieved that the hunt was a success, he approached the carcass and began tucking into it right away. A meal always tasted more succulent and filling when it was hard fought and earned. He pulled a strip of meat from the haunch and chewed on it slowly while he inspected his surroundings, still keenly aware of an unseen gaze trained on him.

If you’re a mountain lion or a bear, you’ll have to wait your turn. I ain’t sharing, he called out gruffly.

A quiet chuckle slipped from the trees.

Lucky fer ye...

Clementine stepped from the undergrowth, her cream-and-russet coat catching the light as she emerged from the shadows she'd occupied throughout the hunt. Her holly-green eyes settled on Dhaska before drifting briefly to the elk. ...I'm nae. She stopped a respectful distance away, calm as ever, carrying herself with the quiet confidence that seemed to come naturally.

I watched the whole thing. A flick of her ear. I wondered if ye'd quit. Her gaze lingered on the carcass for only a heartbeat before returning to him.

Ye did well.

The words were simple and genuine. High praise, coming from someone who rarely offered it. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her muzzle.

So... are ye sharin', or am I admirin' it from over here?

Dhaska

Dhaska was expecting an opportunistic competitor to come and challenge him for his food, and he couldn’t be personally offended by it; there were times when he was young, hungry, and alone where he would steal from others to sate his hunger for another day. It was survival, he could understand it… But he had to survive too, and he wasn’t about to flee before making sure that he could take the fight.

So when the tell-tale rustle of foliage announced a hungry soul emerging to feast, he hunched further over his food and raised the fur on his hackles, a visual indicator that he wasn’t about to be pried off of his lunch if he could help it. He was expecting the huff of a bear, maybe the low growl of a cat, but not the voice of one of his own kind.

He turned, and observed the female with a hint of surprise. Red fur overlaid against black like the smoldering embers after a wildfire, with a demeanor that was equally as relentless and consuming. In spite of that, her grey eyes were cool, studying him at a distance with the expected amount of intrigue held by a social but lonesome creature encountering one of their own species.

Dhaska didn’t want to assume this one was alone. As far as he knew, she could be distracting him before the rest of her family showed up to bully him off the carcass. But the lack of wolf scent in the area made that idea shaky; maybe she was alone, or perhaps drifting from a previous pack? Kita was like that, wandering farther and farther from her family until she ran into Dhaska, and she joined him to make a family of their own.

One of his ears twisted back in uncertainty, but he responded to her praise with a measured amount of pride, I don’t quit. I respect the hunt. It alone chooses who’ll live and who’ll be fed.

He narrowed his eyes with scrutiny, pondering longer over what she said. He was not one to assume things, but… It was becoming difficult to ignore this as an opportunity. She requested some of his food, and for the first time in a while, Dhaska dismissed his immediate gut response to violently turn her away. No, that was no way to treat a potential companion.

... I suppose, he answered, his voice suddenly a tone lighter. He sat upright and cleaned the blood from his lips with his tongue, making himself look more presentable as he opened a space for her to come and feast alongside him. His eyes flickered over her form before courteously returning to meet her gaze, So long as you don’t mind the company.