Hunting with Grandma

Mort had stuck with her and, when she knocked the caribou from its feet, he knew his part. Careful to avoid the flailing hooves that could break a wolfs leg, Mort dove in and bit into the ungulate's throat. A few more feeble flails and the deed was done. Their prey was dead. The rest of the herd, oblivious to their brother's demise, continued to run away to the far edge of the tundra. They would have no trouble carting their meal back to the shelter of the trees.

Grabbing one hind leg between her jaws, Resin began pulling the caribou back towards the trees. They hadn't even had to come very far to make the kill. In all actuality, it had been much easier than she'd intended. Perhaps next time they'd bring a third body and try to bring down a musk ox.

Depositing the corpse once they were out of the blowing wind, the ashen dame settled down to give her body a break. She motioned towards the kill for Mort to eat. "You earned it. You eat first."