This is the first couple paragraphs of a story I've been working on
interested in honest critique.

Neko awoke to the smell of blood. He sniffed the cool night breeze, and his ears swiveled, listening intently.
A wolfs ears were sharp and keen, but it was the nose that knew everything. The nose that had woke him from his dreams of warm summer play.
"A rabbit," Neko thought, injured and bleeding, maybe three hundred yards away upwind in the tall plains grass. Neko's stomach growled.
A wolf always knew an easy meal when he smelled one. Neko rose from his slumber stretching his powerful limbs and began to move slowly and methodically through the grass. He was careful to remain upwind. His steps fell like whispers on the soft ground.
The moon, which Neko so loved was full and bright tonight and threatened to betray him as it cast its silvery glow across the grassy landscape.
Neko's nearly white coat stood out against the yellow grass, his saving grace was the smattering of silver that ran down the center of his back and rimmed the tops of his ears.
Neko crouched deeper into the grass, and farther down into the shadows, his movement slowed to a crawl. He could hear his prey now. It was weakened but not so much that it wouldn't recover given time, or run should he miss his mark.
The rabbit had been lucky at some point earlier this evening in an encounter with a lesser predator than himself, a coyote or a fox perhaps.
However Neko had no intention of allowing his prey any reprieve from fate.
All animals great or small ended as a meal for someone, even wolves bones were picked clean in the end. Neko knew this on some primitive level but he gave it no thought, he crept closer.
The smell of the animal's blood was intoxicating. He could hear it's labored breathing.
His muscles were coiled and tense, he inched as close as he dare then suddenly,
Neko sprang swiftly and with no remorse. His jaws closed around the rabbits throat with a sharp snap, one shrill, short, squeal, and it was over.