Further down the river, Glaedr circled in the clouds, observing a herd of deer that had paused at the wood's edge to drink. Glaedr had to move carefully, he knew. If they had any knowledge of his approach, they'd run into the forest where he didn't have any room to maneuver.
Glaedr had already picked his target; a rather plump buck, though not the alfa male of the herd. While some might herald dragons as thoughtless beasts, it was against their code to kill the alfas of any group. So, Glaedr settled for the next-best thing. The buck was probably about three seasons old and was simply too tempting for the hungry male. Glaedr made his final circle to move into position, sun gleaming off of his dappled gray hide. Checking his shadow on the ground to assure nothing gave him away, he clamped his wings to his side and dove for the earth.
The ground rushed up at him, but Glaedr felt no fear. This was a maneuver he had perfected many times over. Not a single ear pricked at his silent approach, though Glaedr could hardly hear anything over the whistling of the wind as he plummeted to the ground. His talons opened wide and, with no further warning than a light whooosh as his wings suddenly opened to halt his decent, his talons pierced into the back of the buck, drawing a scream from the doomed animal. A few strong beats of his wings was all it too Glaedr to take back to the air, flying a few hundred feet from the bank of the river. Before he landed, however, Glaedr stuck his head between his forelegs, using the blade on his head to strike the buck through the heart. He landed with a soft thump and ripped off a piece of meat and gobbled it down, enjoying his meal.
