Munch Them Mammoths [THE HUNT]

Once everyone was in position and ready it was time for Álarr to officially get the hunt going. Brynhildr returned to him to let him know that all was ready. Afi had refused to participate, feeling that hunting something so big was stupid. If they failed the cat would happily say I told you so. If they succedded, he'd happily join in the feast. Álarr tipped back his head and howled as loudly as he could to let everyone know the hunt had started. He was uncertain if his voice reached all the way to the gorge but either way, Brynhildr had already taken off toward the gorge to alert Hyacinth and Ares that the herd would be on its way.

Álarr charged toward the herd of mammoths. There were about nine total and he aimed for the one farthest at the back. He'd never had good control over stick weaponry like spears so he left that to those who were more experienced. Instead, Álarr lowered his head so his horns were aimed right at the back of the nearest beasts ankle. He rolled his shoulders forward, scrunching his neck back to help protect it as he rammed his head into the mammoths flesh. The reaction was almost immediate. The mammoth jerked forward, startled. A strange low rumbling coming from its mouth as it kicked back. Álarr slid across the snow, shaking out his head before going back in. The note of pain and the disturbance of one started to ripple through the herd as the headed west.