The dim moon's light filtered eerily through the boughs of the tree canopy, shining down on blurred glimpses of black and golden fur that swiftly passed through the territory.
Tabitha laughed, with the thrill of the stark evening breeze in her face as she ran after the unsuspecting deer, which could not see well at night and were bounding off in many different directions, separating and growing more and more confused. They bellowed desperate cries for their family, alone and frightened beyond the capacity of their minds, unable to track their way home under the veil of shadows.
Zane, being ambitious, pursued the lead stag, who was feebly struggling to round his herd members back up, while Tabitha chased a solitary, yearling doe who was running as fast as her spindly legs could take her. Tabitha was rather particular when it came to hunting. The younger the catch, the softer and more tender the meat, was the mindset that Tabitha had whilst she hunted. But not too young, for that would feed but a single Lycan once.