Predator in the Woods

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The calm winter snow falls lazily upon the wolf’s snout. A fog of warmth is exhaled by the beast, which melts the floating flakes. He carefully picks his paw up and indents a circular shape within the plain of snow. His prey does not sense his presence, only the whistling wind knows of his existence, it blankets him, he feels comforted. Little does he know of the observer.
The deer is quietly enjoying the shrubbery of a tree that towers over him. The falling snow is an unwanted reminder of the bitter months to come, the deer craves the rays of sunlight, the look in his eyes is of hunger for warmth.
SNAP!
The predator’s paw snapped a twig beneath the snow, a freshman mistake, he became too anxious, too hungry, he was forgetting about patience, slowly bring the paw down, feel before anything is broken. Luckily, the deer was too caught up in his meal to notice anything other than the fresh taste of shrubs.
The wolf’s heart began to race, he was getting closer to his dinner, he could almost taste the sweet, savory flesh, the warmth, it would keep him heated on this frigid night to come.
The clouds above were already signaling a storm to come for the night, and the wolf hadn’t eaten in two days. He was tired, almost ready to quit, but his pups were waiting at home, expecting food, so he had to drag on, no matter the cost.
He came within fifteen paces of the deer, his breathing heavy now, his eyes sharp. He let out a low, menacing snarl, just for fun, to tease his prey, and then he leapt.
CRACK!
The deer jumped and scampered away from the battlefield.
The smoke from my rifle penetrated the winter air, much like my bullet into the chest of the wolf. He would not fight another day, for these grounds are a haven for deer, he had overstepped his boundary.