Everyone's Got a Baby Caribou.

They moved as one. Sound of paws crunching over crisp snow in unison. Eyes concentrating on the herd of Caribou ahead. Their grazing not disturbed with lack of knowledge that they were being hunted. Melanth had done good their last trip. Tongue grooming over black lips at the memory of moose blood smeared over them. She’d done so perfectly without the mess of dirtying herself up. 

Nails gripped the white earth for better leverage. Stealth becoming easier to manage day by day with every hunt they made. Thick frost ensured debris did not falter their intentions. Her large, slender frame gliding slightly ahead to better see through the underbrush. They were scattered in smaller groups. A few calves lingering by their mothers to nurse. It was then she saw it. The resting elder caribou. Though old, one could tell the years of strength she held. 

Found her.
"Helonia"~~"Melanth"