His gaze is fixed intently on the small animal as it comes by.
Small. Striped. Grey. Not as much meat as a raccoon, but he's in absolutely no place to be picky. The aching and the churning in his stomach and the itch to bite into flesh is a constant reminder of how he doesn't have the luxury of that kind of choice anymore.
He'd spent time trailing this one and seen it darting through alleys. Thought of pursuing it on more than one occasion, but he was never desperate enough then, it wasn't worth it. Now on the other hand.. now is finally the time before something else kills it and it's gone for good.
This time it's easy, it isn't in any rush, moving at a leisurely enough pace. strolling more than anything, not the mannerisms of the wild.
He takes a chance on that.
Slowly he pulls himself out into the open space of the alley, stoops low to seem nonthreatening, and extends a hand. When it notices, there's a moment of staring before- there -It makes a hesitant approach.
A wordless coo leaves him, a low noise.. And as soon as it extends its neck to sniff at his hand, he springs forward.
Movement, noise, panic, flesh and bones giving under violent bashing and pulling, claws dragging into skin
shrieking which he drowns out with his own.
Bone pulled out of its socket, the scream dying down.
His jaws wrapped around a furred neck, biting down, hard.
And silence, aside from his panting, lying on the ground and draped around what was an animal a minute ago and is meat now.
