Heading back into the den, it was quite nice for one wolf. But he wasn't there to sleep; no, he was rubbing his scent all over the area. If this meant taking on an entire pack, he'd do it in a heartbeat. Walking back outside, he began to mark the trees, the bushes, everywhere in the small area that marked this as his. It was his warning to other wolves, "Get out and stay out." Once he was satisfied with his work, he gruffed and smelled the air. A strong scent hit his nostrils; rabbit.
Walking through the undergrowth calmly and smoothly, he spotted the brown pelt of a rabbit. the good thing about wolves was their giant feet that acted like snowshoes. The rabbit looked over its shoulder and tore off, but it was much too late. Fleck caught up with a few good strides and ended its life quickly with a bite to the neck once he pinned it.
Grabbing the rabbit, he headed back to his den. Once he returned, he sat down and wasted no time in tearing into the prey. Still angry about the she~wolf's interrogation and false accusations, he was not gentle with his meal. Bits of rabbit fur hung in the crisp winter air, snarls escaping him every once and a while. Usually a calm wolf, Fleck was displaying a very rare side of himself.
He didn't look away from his dinner as he shook it, as if this was that wolf he'd had such an unpleasant encounter with. Deciding that he'd finally had enough, he dug a hole in the ground and set the rabbit inside, intending to return to it later. Burying it, he stalked over to the den and sat in front of it; waiting.
Waiting for someone to intrude. Waiting for someone to get ripped a new one. Waiting for something. He didn't know what yet.