One False Step

Fleeing the cold northern climate, she had found herself in the broad southern expanses, where the freeze had yet to totally take hold. A cold, lonely wind whistled across the plains, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. It was better than the frozen coastlands.

She had been tracking a herd of buffalo for some time, her dark pelt blending into the tundra scrub. Her target was a small calf with a twisted leg, likely from a previous hunt that it had escaped. Arayne crouched, belly to the ground, watching it. It wouldn't escape her. A small part of her felt guilty at killing the young, injured creature, but not so much that she was willing to let it go. She was hungry, and that was the way of nature.

When the calf began to lag, she began galloping forwards, relying on her lupine endurance to succeed. She split it from the herd, keeping pace just behind it until it began to lag. When it appeared sufficiently tired, she struck again and again, tearing at it's flanks until it finally stumbled. With a deathgrip to the throat, it was was over.

The mother stood nearby, stomping her hooves and snorting, but she seemed to realize that it would be pointless to try and defend her calf now. Lowing, it turned away and rejoined the herd. Arayne stood quiet for a moment, then lifted her her and howled a single, clear note. Her pack had always sung a salute to the animals they killed, and she intended to continue the tradition. Thanks giving, she turned to the business of tearing open the belly, hoping to eat enough to satisfy her before the scavengers came a-calling.