The Bisontennial.

With a quarry as large and as dangerous as a bison, great care needed to be put forward in their tactics. Azrael did not relish the idea of perishing out here on this icy tundra underneath the hooves of some massive beast. Fortunately, it seemed that the others shared his concern. So, with caution and awareness, the four wolves began to ever so slowly talk towards the unaware bison. Being as large and darkly coated as he was, stealth was a limited option for him against the bright white of the Wash, but Az moved slowly and methodically, measuring his breaths so he couldn't fog the air too much and give away his position.

However, despite his best attempts at remaining unseen, it seemed another one of the wolves in the hunting party rolled a natural one on their stealth check, for the bison lifted its head and began to bellow in panic. Shit! It was now or never! A flurry of movement from the other wolves told him they had chosen now. Kicking off the snowy ground in a flurry of icy powder, Azrael sprinted after the fleeing bison, silently cursing the pale wolf that had somehow alerted it despite being the color of the snow when he was fucking purple. Grievances aside, there was a job to do now. Large paws crushed snow and ice beneath his weight, mouth open and pulling in lungfuls of air as the brute made a mad dash for the bison, closing the gap fast. Azrael surged ahead of the group, trying to cut the bison off and get it to veer towards the wolves so the group could mob it and bring it down fast.

"Azrael Saxe"