Striking. Their eyes, glaring at me with an insatiable appetite. There were three of them as far as I could tell. Glorious, wild beasts of the woods. Fur as silky white as a fresh snow fall. They stood frozen, attention up ahead, looking for their next meal. Any movement on my part and I would be their next reward. I slowly shuffled my feet backwards, lifting each leg cautiously through the fall leaves that had fallen. I crouched down behind a half rotten log to remain hidden while I watched. The beady eyes of the beautiful canids continued to scour their surroundings for danger and for food. Suddenly their ears perked up, like satellite dishes readjusting. They'd heard something, and so had I. My heart begin to speed up. Pumping the blood through my veins in a hurried manner.

A hunt was close. I didn't want to see an attack but this was a moment that felt exhilarating.

It was magnificent, standing probably six feet tall. Dark coarse fur covering its statuesque body. Legs, long muscular legs.

A moose on its own is a powerful creature, but against a family of canines, it may have its work cut out for it.

Predator meet Prey.

Let the chase begin.

The wolves move quickly, leaping through the bush, eager for their prize. Yelping with each movement as if demanding their prize make it easy.

The moose, in its glory, moves even quicker. Lurching through the trees, deep within the forest. Propelled by its instinctual need to flee, to survive.

In its panicked fleeing, it fails to notice another wolf, one seperate from the three in the pack. The lone wolf latches on to its calf. A guttural groan escapes it as it trips and falls.

The other three wolves are now approaching, stalking in perfect precision.

I close my eyes, holding my eyelids tight as the sight of a kill is more than they can handle.

Screams. Howls. Yelps.

Nature has fed the wolves of the night.