One last time, Salim tore a huge piece of meat from the flank of his freshly captured roebuck and chewed on it for a while until he swallowed it. His prey had not been particularly strong and his method of sneaking up on it had gone wrong, but luckily the old age of the buck had allowed him to kill it. One bite to the animal's throat and it was dead and he had been able to eat a tasty meal. The magpie he had killed at sunrise had been more delicious and juicier, but the roebuck had been much better. His stomach was now full after he had spent most of the day looking for something to eat.
However, he tried to suppress the fact that he was not a particularly good hunter, who always used the wrong hunting techniques when it came to getting his fill. Salim knew anyone could have told him this, but knowing it himself didn't do his self-confidence much good. He was nervous when he stood barely a badger's body away from his victim, crouched in the grass, fixing him. He knew how his breath trembled and made noises, how his tail whipped in the air and his pawsteps were not even remotely quiet. What a shame for a lynx who had successfully passed his test and was now allowed to inhabit his own territory. His only consolation was the deer he had captured, which satisfied his hunger. He was also able to fend for himself. He had not starved to death and had successfully put all the hardships that had happened in his past behind him. He was still alive, even after all the fighting, famine and danger.
Salim licked his muzzle to wipe the beguiling smell of the buck from his tongue and nose. He turned his gaze to the sky, could see the clouds as they were blown by the wind to bring even bigger and blacker ones with them. Salim heard the air echoing deafeningly loud in his ears, heard the rustling of the shining golden leaves as they were carried away. The lynx began to smile. Even if hunting was not one of his better abilities, such a spectacle could quickly improve his mood. Who wouldn't want to watch the leaves as they drifted through the air as if by magic, perhaps reaching the edge of the world to sink to the ground and form a warm cushion. The fresh breeze tugged at his light brown fur, which would probably become much thicker in the days to come. Salim could almost smell the snow.
He decided to blame his failures on the changes in the weather as well. It was getting colder, the lynx could feel that clearly and knew that soon the time of death would replace this colorful time. Soon, very soon, he was sure of it.
Salim took another deep breath of the smell of the rotting leaves on the ground, which was strangely mixed with a scent that he could not identify and therefore blamed on the roebuck before burying its bones in the ground. Perhaps he would come back when the time of death came over the land and brought the snow with it. When his hunting skills were no longer enough and he would beg for every last morsel. A buck would be just the thing.
Salim tried to memorize the spot where he had buried it and stood up. The wind was still blowing incessantly and with a quick glance at the sky, he made sure that the black clouds were getting closer and closer. It looked like a heavy thunderstorm, he thought, which could probably last for a few days. He could already feel the ice-cold drops getting into his fur and it would take far too long for it to dry out again.
He shuddered. No, he wanted to escape this cruel fate and so he immediately decided to return to his den. No one would be able to stop him, that much was certain. Rain was clearly not a very popular weather, even if the forest he lived in would not last long without water.
Salim couldn't stand it when the water soaked his fur and the mud stuck to it and his paws for days on end. The clods of earth would hinder his hunt to such an extent that he would need the roebuck much sooner than originally planned.
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He quickly ordered his paws to move and trotted deeper into his territory, back to his den. Fortunately, he had discovered this extremely cozy sleeping spot when he had passed by here on his journey to a new territory. He hadn't ventured very far into it, as he had barely been able to see anything without the sunlight and was afraid of getting lost and coming to an agonizing end in it. Even if it wasn't always easy, he liked his life and wasn't particularly keen on ending it prematurely if it could be avoided.
Salim crossed the forest, dodging the trees that kept swinging as the wind picked up and the clouds came closer. They cast dark shadows on the ground and darkened his surroundings drastically. The lynx stopped for a moment and looked around. His territory looked very different when the rain approached. More threatening. More dangerous.
He shook his head. Imagination. It was all in his head. He had already searched his territory for intruders and had not detected any sound or smell that would indicate one. However, there was this scent that had haunted him since the roebuck's hunt. He couldn't say exactly what it was about this scent that unsettled him. It smelled so familiar and yet far too wild to be something he knew. Too sweetish. Almost like blood. Maybe it would be better if he went to see what was wrong. Maybe there was an injured animal he could bring a quick death to, or a Baldskin that had strayed. It could have been anything, because he didn't know anything like that.
Salim wrestled with himself and looked up at the sky again. The clouds loomed ever larger over his head and it could only be a few more heartbeats before the rain would fall to earth. If he left, he would be soaked to the skin again and would have to wait for days until all the moisture had drained from his fur. On the other paw... He wouldn't forgive himself for the rest of his life if he found a lifeless and wounded Baldskin in his territory that he hadn't helped. Even if this could mean his death.
The lynx sighed deeply. This was going to send him to his grave. He sucked in the air and opened his mouth to search for that strange breath.
And there he could taste it on his tongue again. That sweetness that involuntarily reminded him of blood. And that typical stench of the Baldskins he had to endure in the north of his territory. But, he couldn't deny it, there was something else that made him wonder. This subtle scent of lynx that lingered in the air and was clearly not his own. He didn't want to admit it, he just couldn't.
He had roamed the whole area looking for such intruders and had been unable to detect anything. Had he been too busy hunting? Had the beguiling hunger clouded his senses?
A single drop of the freezing rain landed on his forehead. Salim had to hurry if he wanted to get back to his cave in time before the rain started.
His nose close to the ground, feeling almost like one of those yapping dogs, he followed the trail through the undergrowth. The smell of blood grew stronger the closer he seemed to get to the source and he could now clearly make out the lynx.
The lynx, which Salim clearly recognized as a lynxess, must have been injured. Even though he would probably chase it away, he still wanted to know what had happened.
It couldn't be far now, while his heart began to beat faster with every step he took. What had happened to her? And why did she have such a strong scent of the Baldskins on her?
Questions and questions poured into Salim's head as he forced himself to concentrate on the scent.
It couldn't be much further. Salim stepped through a hazelnut bush, its yellow leaves blocking his view, and drew in a sharp breath of air.
Two more raindrops hit him.