Jigano had been born neither animal nor human but a race apart from both, though it took aspects from each. He was at ease in his animal forms, and found little reason not to follow his instincts in them, especially when those instincts aligned with those of his original fox shape. Though he preferred hunting his own prey - and had taught Isuma how to catch mice and voles and insects - he wasn't too proud to take advantage of someone else's hunt. Deepfrost was coming, and any food that he could stash or save up for the snows was worth the effort of doing so. If that meant scavenging for a meal instead of hunting and smoking his own prey, well, he wasn't too proud to take advantage of what nature offered.
That was how he found himself following a delectable wind of fresh death on his white raven's wings, Isuma gliding behind him, her mind a bubble of hunger and eager delight at the thought of a midafternoon snack. The light slanted warmly through branches ablaze with red and gold leaves, though the wind held a cooling bite that threatened a chilly evening soon to come.
The kill was near, the scent thick in his beak, and heavy enough that even Isuma's duller nose could catch it as they slowed their flight and came upon a small break in the trees. Not even a proper clearing, it was just a place of sparser trees where the prey had fallen to the wolf not so long ago. The white raven and the moon-pale gryphlet dropped to land on a branch overhead, peering down at the feast and considering the hunter thoughtfully. Should they drop down and steal a beakful of fresh meat, or wait a little longer until the she-wolf had sated her hunger enough to ignore a few dinner guests?
Ashetta
That was how he found himself following a delectable wind of fresh death on his white raven's wings, Isuma gliding behind him, her mind a bubble of hunger and eager delight at the thought of a midafternoon snack. The light slanted warmly through branches ablaze with red and gold leaves, though the wind held a cooling bite that threatened a chilly evening soon to come.
The kill was near, the scent thick in his beak, and heavy enough that even Isuma's duller nose could catch it as they slowed their flight and came upon a small break in the trees. Not even a proper clearing, it was just a place of sparser trees where the prey had fallen to the wolf not so long ago. The white raven and the moon-pale gryphlet dropped to land on a branch overhead, peering down at the feast and considering the hunter thoughtfully. Should they drop down and steal a beakful of fresh meat, or wait a little longer until the she-wolf had sated her hunger enough to ignore a few dinner guests?
