This piece is a fairly old introduction I wrote for a wolf character of mine named Solo. It's somewhat old so I would love any constructive criticism on how to improve or even just to know what you think of the current piece. Thank you. :]
PS. I do not yet know if I will be carrying this on as I don't have a plot for a good story but if anyone would like to collaborate with me or has any plot ideas, that'd be great too.
A night breeze is the most refreshing of them all - especially on a late spring evening when the air is so still and humid. His tongue lolls away from his jaws, curling up briefly to rake across his flews. Paws flex over the earth, head drops just below his withers, muscles twitch with anticipation and make the silver swords of light dance across his pelt. Another waft of cool air lifts the heavy scents from the forest floor to his nose and he breathes deeply to catch each one. Short, hooded ears crane forward, listening intently - they do not need to strain to catch the soft footfalls of their target.
Obtuse yellow eyes are momentarily lit up in a pool of metallic light as they glance about and scan for gaps in the foliage. The hunched form is almost too easily spotted, so easily as to cause a fleeting moment of suspicion. But it is, he knows, only a rabbit - a dullard.
His straight spine drops down to line up with his cranium, his paws lifting the minimal of distances before creeping forward through the night and carrying him, downwind, towards the grazing creature - his dark form as unnoticeable as ever.
The rabbit chews contentedly, blissfully unaware of the impending doom, and pushes its ears back as though there is nothing to listen out for. This action only enforces Solo's conviction that rabbits are dullards; prey should never let its guard down, it should always be cautious. Now, its chances of surviving are so low that the sport is almost lost in the hunt.
He would give this one a chance, a warning rustle, and then pounce. That way there would be some sort of effort involved on his part and he would almost certainly catch it anyway.
Muscles tense in preparation, legs bunched together as he lets one paw fall into a pile of dead leaves and immediately launches himself into the air. In that moment, the rabbit's ears twist up and it realises the danger. It, too, launches itself but already the hunter’s form is lurching through the sky above, jaws snapping dangerously close. The rabbit doubles back, trying, in desperation, to outrun the great beast.
In a moment, that glimmer of hope is diminished and the rabbit's efforts are thwarted. Twisting midair and snapping his jaws again as he lands, the ebony streak of wolf catches his prey and blood spills from between his jowls onto the forest floor. The stench of death drives other small creatures further into their underground homes or higher into the treetops. Solo shakes his head viciously before dropping the limp creature at his paws. His fur is speckled with deep purple, the white blaze on his chest with bright crimson. He hastens to remove every drop before it dries and then turns to eat his meal. The bitter taste of rabbit meat not quite as satisfying as that of larger prey but, perhaps, the most you can expect for so little effort.