A Day in the Life of a Carnivore

Another something I found while ruffling through my papers.

He padded along on the soft forest floor, silent as could be. Not making any noise was pretty much his best bet at catching something to eat. He hadn't eaten since his pack abandoned him in the tundra. Something about him "not helping the pack" and "too small to do any good", but there was no time for bitter feelings. He had wandered south to escape the harsh cold, and had arrived at a huge forest of pine trees in northern Canada.
Suddenly, he heard something off to his left, a rabbit grooming itself in front of a fallen tree. He immediately got lower, hiding in the sparse grass of pine-needle covered soil. Then, he sprang forward, eyes on his prey, feeling nothing but adrenaline and pure instinct, all his senses were on overload. Even so, the succulent animal bounded into a hidden home under the tree. Gone, the sad canine realized. The wolf's stomach rumbled painfully. If he didn't find some kind of sustenance soon, he would surely die.
Later in the evening, when the sun was nearing the horizon, he came across the carcass of a deer. It wasn't nearly fresh, but it wasn't picked clean either. Maybe there was a meal in there for our needing adventurer. The killer had obviously eaten his fill and left the rest for scavengers. The wolf never liked scavenging, but in dire times the ability to eat rotten meat was a gift indeed. He would stay alive for a while longer, at least. As he ate, one could say that they could see a grin on this wolf's muzzle.