come hell or high water

The last caribou had narrowly escaped their clutches, entrails actively leaking from its stomach. Iscariot was deeply, incredibly unsettled by the entire thing. Her own stomach churning, the only sounds from the panicked prey still echoed in her mind. Without another thought, she follows the blood trail until it... until it stops making sense. Until it stops making sense, then disappears entirely.

She doesn't like anything about this. Like a dog with a bone, Iscariot zeroes in on a different herd of prey, one that's just as confused. Musk oxen, mashing their faces against the horrible, snowy ground, ceaselessly. They're behaving just as strangely as the caribou had.

Dialing in on the herd, narrowing her eyes, Isacriot singles out the most confused of the lot. A large male, pawing and ramming his nose against the ragged ground, his face already bloody from the effort. Gaze scanning the red, rugged hellscape... there had to be enough wolves for another hunt nearby. If she starts running, someone will come.

So run she does. Right into the herd, directly into the line of fire, the creature throws herself. Closing the distance at a breakneck pace, she's ready. Riot is solving this one, come hell or high water.

"Iscariot"