Bloody Your Teeth For The Good Of The Pack

The wind whipped through the lands outside, stirring up snow and biting into the flesh of those caught without shelter. Even so, the wolves hunted. Úlfr had a spring in his step as he followed the hunting party, for winter was the season of the wolf. The thick show hindered their prey and drained their energy. He wasn't quite sure he liked the crypt much but he knew Víðarr was interested in claiming the territory.

Strangely enough they'd managed to find a musk ox within the crypt. Tove gave out the instructions and Úlfr went along with it even though it wasn't his preferred way to hunt a musk ox. Despite the chill of the weather outside musk oxen were prone to overheating if driven hard and relentlessly. The trick of course was to get them running without getting kicked or gored and the crypt's close quarters would make it difficult to get around.

"I can get behind it." He nodded to his ravens, indicating he had a plan for such an action. He had been hunting in tandem with his ravens so long they barely needed to speak to each other. The birds perched near the ceiling, talons clicking into the alcoves as Úlfr readied himself.