Words perfectly describe Miles's situation right now. He lay underneath a hole covered by a fallen tree, which only he could seem to crawl into. Miles had been on the island for about a year now, and most of his 'activates' was hunting for bunnys and other small animals. He hated his new life-style, and was only a feeble child in this situation.
He slowly crawled out of his hole, and began looking for food quietly. As he creep, emerged behind him was a pack of wolves, mutants like him. They wouldn't kill poor Miles, but bullying him was something they enjoyed now and then. He accidently shaped in his fox kit form, and gave a small, kit-like growl at them. The 'leader' gave a bark of laughter, and pounced Miles. He landed on him, and began scracthing him up with his slight claws. The only escape for Miles, was faking his death. He slowed his bloodstream, his heartrate, his breathing 'stopped', and his eyes looked up lifeless. Miles even created a small puddle of blood, to fool the wolves into thinking he was dead.
They all looked at them stunned, even the leader, not knowning they actually 'killed' him. The pack, slowly began to walk past him, feeling a tad bit guilty, and some of them turned into their human forms, and began to explore better with the usage of a extra thumb.