A Date With Death

Where's That Wabbit?

Leidolf hadn't managed to come with any explanation for what he and Denver had experienced the day before, so had just alerted her guards to keep an eye out in case anything out of the ordinary appeared again. They had left it there for now, as they couldn't really do much else since finding out none of the other Supas had a problem with them still.

But none of that mattered right then. Fenrir strolled down to the camp fire site to meet the rest of the hunting group. He was topless and his jeans hung low on his hips as he walked, showing off his impressively firm, sculpted abs, chest and arms. It was clear why so many had wanted to catch his eye. But, to Fenrir, not everything was about looks. As cliché as it sounded, personality meant so much, and the inner qualities of a person mattered more. So, if people only wanted him for the box, they wouldn't get anywhere near the perfectly packaged inside.

The hunt had been well organised, so it didn't take long for the gathered hunters to disperse in their group of seven to stalk their prey. Fenrir and the other hunters headed due north, to where the biggest prey would usually be found. It would have taken them hours to walk there, but they all stripped, morphing into their beautiful wolf forms and taking off, the miles eaten away by intense pace they set themselves.

Fenrir in wolf form was as stunning as he was as a man. Standing a good half a foot taller than the others, you could tell he was Alpha. His whole form was larger, broader, he stood out as the true leader he was. His coat was grey, several different shades that all seemed to mesh seamlessly, beautiful tones that worked so well. The only other colour he had was black, which formed a black bandit type mask over his eyes before running the entire length of his spine, right to the tip of his tail. His markings were individual, no one in the whole of his pack had the same. He was truly unique.

It didn't take them more than 40 minutes to reach their favoured ground, and they slowed to a soft, steady walk, all seven sniffing the air and paths for any signs of recent activity. They were all very alert, signalling silently to the others if they caught a scent, or discovered tracks. But as they moved, their paws silent on the ground, it still took them a while longer before they found a fresh, viable set of tracks.

Fenrir took the lead as they moved in synchronised steps, following the tracks to a small clearing, stilling as they spotted their prey. Lowering themselves, they watched the stag, eating the lush, dew covered green grass as he hadnt sensed them yet. If they planned this out well, he wouldn't either until it was too late. Not to be too cocky, but Fenrir knew they would catch this beast. Such a stunning animal, and it would feed a good few at the size he was. The only thing they had to really be wary of was his antlers. The impressively huge set he had could kill any of them if they didn't pounce right, and kill him quickly.

Signalling for the others to slowly creep around the edge of the clearing to get behind the stag, he watched them for a few seconds, proud of how well they all moved. He had trained with all of the men, and they had come so far from the young boys they once were.

Refocussing on the prize, he watched as everyone got into place, then signalled for them all to start by running full pelt towards the stag. He got the stags attention, the impressive animal lifting his head to try and swing his weaponry, the antlers, at Fenrir. Diving out of the way in a well practised move at the last second, the other wolves all came in from different angles, trying to intimidate and get the beast to run. They were smart, making sure they left a specific gap for the stag to run through, down a path they all knew they could give chase down.

After another minute or so of the whole pack nipping and trying to get at the stag, he did as they wanted, and ran. He chose the path they wanted and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Perfect, Fenrir thought as he lead his pack after him, their paws thumping along the ground in big long strokes as they closed in.

Their muscles rippled, rolling under their fur as they moved, Fenrir's showing the most being as he was bigger in all aspects compared to the rest. Seven pairs of sharp, calculated eyes watched the beast as it twisted and turned, trying to lose them, yet it failed in its plan as Fenrir jumped, his powerful, massive jaw clamping onto its hind right leg, his own impressive weight stopping the animal from being able to keep moving and making the stag lose his stride. It fell into a heap, but its already desperately trying to get it's body back up to move, even as the other wolves each jumped on, pinning him down as Fenrir's second, Denver went for the throat, clamping down in a very precise place, to kill the stag quickly.