The Bisontennial.

Rakia was waiting, her body taut with anticipation. The situation had changed rapidly; the bison had become aware of their presence, and now they were in a race against time. Hunter instincts kicked in, driving her forward with the rest of the group. Suddenly, movement exploded around her as the others broke cover. The bison was on the move, stumbling in alarm over the frost-covered ground. Despite its great size and strength, fear made it clumsy — an advantage for them. She leaped forward with the others, trying to choose the best path that would take them ahead of the bison’s course.

Their paws kicked up powdery snow, leaving a shimmering trail behind them. Rakia’s heart pounded in her chest, instilling a rhythm to her chase. The cold air bit into her lungs as she drew in quick, sharp breaths. She could hear the others around her, their panting and swift movements. Rakia focused, her gaze locked onto the bison's heaving flank.

As she drew close enough, Rakia made her move. She lunged forward, her body a blur of gray and white against the prevailing snowscape. With a swift, calculated motion, she sank her teeth into the bison's hind leg, hoping to slow it down for the others. The beast bellowed in alarm and pain, its massive form thrashing in an attempt to shake her off.

But Rakia was relentless. She braced herself against the frigid earth as her jaws clamped down harder, a primal growl rumbling in her chest. Ignoring the sting of cold winds whipping at her face and the threat of being trampled beneath the panicking creature, she held on with determination. There would be no escape, the bastard.

"Rakia Perreau"