You Know, Back in St. Olaf... [Pack Hunt]

Gwen followed readily as Brandr led the way towards the herd he had sighted, then moved somewhat apart from him as they made their approach. She wasn't a dedicated hunter, though she did well enough to provide for herself and her children, so she took care to keep herself well out of Brandr and Laisren's way. She wasn't used to hunting in groups and didn't want to risk the hunt by getting in someone's way unthinkingly. She concentrated on keeping her pawsteps silent and as much as possible avoided anything that would mark her position by moving. She moved in fits and starts rather than steadily to disguise her movements and before long they were in position. She had time to take a deep breath and crouch low, nails digging in, to ready herself to launch into a run.

Brandr's sharp bark rang out as a signal, and Gwen surged forward towards the panicking mass of deer. The doe they'd targeted broke away at an angle, and Gwen pivoted to follow, neatly bracketing her as Brandr chased her. He had judged right; the doe's joints whether from injury or disease or age were not up to the task of outrunning them, and they were slowly gaining on her as she fled. Up hill and down dale they chased her, until they were almost upon her.

Bunching her hindquarters she kicked it up a gear, going from that ground-eating endurance run into a sprint that brought her up beside the doe where she could slash at her flank in a spray of blood. Given Brandr's position she hoped that the more experienced hunter would work to hamstring the animal, and the trio could continue to wear her down until Laisren could get to her throat and end it.