I have odd conversations with my wife sometimes.
The prey was wary, despite our precautions. It was female, and young enough to breed, but old enough to know there were things out there that would delight in ripping the meat from its bones and eating it raw. We had done it often enough in places just like this, after all.
But it was stupid, like all prey; and it could not quite believe that this silent grassy field between darkened houses could possibly be instantly fatal, now. And there were treasures in this place, too. Things it could not get at in the woods, where what was left of its kind hid. When stupidity joins forces with greed, foolishness always follows.
But the prey had some cunning; it crept from shadow to shadow, circling around the treasure it sought. I could see it try to look in several directions at once, and stifled my barking laughter when its spooked eyes passed over me, and saw nothing. The rest of the pack followed my example; relaxed, but ready to pounce when it pleased us to do so.