Astoria Pendridge

Six

Astoria crouched down and observed a set of paw prints, immediately recognizing them as belonging to that of a singular wolf. Though she knew that most wolves hunted and thrived together, Pendridge had chosen this one specifically because it had supposedly lost its pack to a tougher creature (one he hadn't named), one that had caused it an injury. A perfect opponent for the current her.

'It's bleeding. . .' Her golden eyes looked about the dirt surrounding the prints as she sniffed at the ground. Though both the spots of blood and scent were extremely faint, she was already used to it enough to be able to make it out anywhere. She touched a bit of blood with her finger, covered in dirt, and tasted it.

'Fresh. No more than a few minutes has passed.' She thought. As she was now used to the taste of animal meat and blood, she could estimate the amount of time that had passed from blood being shed by its taste alone. 'Though, even if injured, that's still more than enough time for a wolf to travel far.'

She stared at the continuing prints.

"I have its general direction now," She muttered.

She turned her head to the bark of the tree nearest the path for any signs of fur. Her eyes naturally sharpened and picked up any details until she reached forward and grasped a tuffle of brown fur.

She sniffed at it.

"Deer."

Beasts were prone to scratching themselves on whatever they could find, Pendridge had taught her. Especially when injured as they may try to get at the prickling sensation of their injury. A good hunter, he said, used that to his advantage. She stood from her crouch and followed the paw-prints until another tree. This time, there was gray fur. She took that and gave it a sniff as well.

There were multiple details she could gain from its scent alone.

"Smells a bit like Pendridge," She muttered, and gave it another whiff. "But distinct from him, as well. Definitely another wolf."

She stood and glanced about the dirt floor. She had an initial general direction of the paw prints, and now she had its scent. As long as it didn't simply vanish into thin air, she now had enough information to track it down.

She knew Pendridge was watching her, so she couldn't fail. Though careful, she ran after the lead she had gathered, her nose sniffing about.

It took her more time to track the beast down to its location than she would have liked. By the time she found it munching on the carcass of a deer it had hunted even in its injured state, it was already mid-afternoon.

'Its back is hurt so it most likely can't jump or go into any sudden, intense, strike,' Astoria thought as she watched it while she shifted between trees. There was a remarkably sized bite mark on its spine, but the thing must have been born with good tenacity because it was still alive.

She took stock of how she would attack.

It had dragged the deer to a clearing near a pond, so jumping from a tree wouldn't work. She could try waiting until it moved but (1) There was no guarantee of that and (2) she was already taking longer than she expected she would. What would Pendridge think if she took till nighttime? She didn't want to know.

She decided, then, that the best point of attack would be from its back, and that she would attack the exact same spot it had been beaten. Biting and tearing into its injury herself until it collapsed. Perhaps she could get at its organs through there? Who was to say.

'If worse comes to worst,' She thought, 'I'll see if I can push and drown it in the pond.'

She wasn't entirely sure if she was yet strong enough to move a wolf, injured or not, but that would be a worthwhile last-ditch effort.