[ Her new strength and stamina is helpful in her human form, but it doesn't make Wynonna any better at hunting the small, agile animals that make up the bulk of her protein intake, and besides — she likes being the wolf. There's a simplicity about it that she desperately needs, considering how complicated everything's gotten since Christmas.
(It helps that it's easier for Little, too, sometimes. They can change, and go hunt and run and play in the woods, and when he's the wolf it's easier, natural, to nose at him, lick his face, wind herself around him like a secondary fur coat. There's a freedom to it, an ease that's still lacking when they're together as their human selves. Everything is different, but it's all the same, too.)
She'd been out for an hour or so before picking up the scent of something warm and living and shifted gears from wandering to hunting. When she finds the little clutch of ptarmigan, she attacks silently and with the comfort of practice, then delicately breaks the neck of the bird she has pinned and picks it gently up in her mouth to carry it back toward the cabin. The scent of blood drifts through the woods in her wake, and she keeps her ears pricked. The last thing she wants is to get attacked by some other predator trying to grab her prize for its own. ]
—Hickey
(It helps that it's easier for Little, too, sometimes. They can change, and go hunt and run and play in the woods, and when he's the wolf it's easier, natural, to nose at him, lick his face, wind herself around him like a secondary fur coat. There's a freedom to it, an ease that's still lacking when they're together as their human selves. Everything is different, but it's all the same, too.)
She'd been out for an hour or so before picking up the scent of something warm and living and shifted gears from wandering to hunting. When she finds the little clutch of ptarmigan, she attacks silently and with the comfort of practice, then delicately breaks the neck of the bird she has pinned and picks it gently up in her mouth to carry it back toward the cabin. The scent of blood drifts through the woods in her wake, and she keeps her ears pricked. The last thing she wants is to get attacked by some other predator trying to grab her prize for its own. ]