They stalked through the low grass in a loose group, pups safely left behind at the Antler Ring. Up ahead, one of the herds of brown, blurry shapes was getting closer. With a hunting party of their size, going for a caribou or elk would be a waste, and so, they had gravitated towards larger prey. A small herd of muskoxen were grassing upwind, still blissfully unaware of the approaching danger. Drestig paused, hunching down among the cribbled shrubbery, eyes drifting from the beasts to the wolves around him. It was a diverse group, but most of them had been around for a good number of years and were sure to know how to handle themselves. Smiling confidently, he looked over at Lachesis, nodding at his words; “Good. You lead them on the right flank.” Looking to the other side, he pointed his muzzle at each individual as he spoke: “Neko, Aleksei, you’re with me on the left. The rest drive from the back!” He looked around at Laike and Adelayde, who were already at the rear, knowing their bigger size made them ideal for this position.

Then the attention was turned back to the herd, ears perked and nostrils quivering as he sought their ranks for a suitable target. “There, to the right, see that yearling gone astray?” He asked the other leader out the corner of his mouth, eyes never leaving their prey. The young male had wandered away from the herd in his hunt for the sweetest treats among the stubby grass; His mistake! Now he would be their dinner. “Everybody ready?” The grayed man asked with a decisive tail-wag, looking around again to make sure that everyone was focussed on the target. Then, once the answer had sounded: “Go!”

Almost like an explosion, the hunters burst forwards in a blur of movement, sprinting towards the stray ox. Drestig could feel every fiber in his body flexing, the wind sweeping back his fur and filling his nostrils with the scent of prey. Up ahead the herd was noticing the danger, calling out in deep, anxious voices and shuffling among each other. This was the most important part, they had to get in between their target and the rest of the herd, before he had time to close the gap. The dark man pushed harder, feeling the mixed exhilaration and stress that came with every hunt. The oxen were running now, hooves thundering in his ears. One cow continued to bellow desperately, calling out for her son, but it was too late, the wolves had reached their target. Jaws snapping, he herded the young bull away from the safety of his family, pushing him to keep running in the opposite direction.

Then it was time to play the long game. With an occasional snap, keeping pace on three sides of the beast, the wolves would push it to run until heat and exhaustion stopped it. This was what a pack could do, using their superior stamina to chase larger prey to the brink of collapse; Then we strike! Drestig smiled to himself, growling in fierce elation, despite the strain of the run. Tongue slipping out one side of his mouth, he gasped audibly, pushing further to keep his sprint level with the bull’s flank. This was hunting, no matter how old he got, this was what it meant to be a wolf. He would have howled in excitement, had he had the air, now instead he stuck to snarling again, snapping at the ox’s side.

He was a feisty one, bucking and veering as they went, making them fight to keep up. Drestig jumped aside, almost as nimbly as in his younger days, lowering his head and falling back a little to avoid the small, but still deadly horns. One leap, then another. He gasped. Then, as his front paw connected yet again with the frost-hard earth, a stab of pain went up the stiff leg. He staggered, unconcentrated for just a moment, and the bull kicked. A horrible, crunching sound filled his ears as the hoof connected with his shoulder, the blow reverberating throughout his entire body, quickly followed by blinding pain. With a loud cry, the Rye king collapsed in a heap, all of his mind consumed by the dark, burning pain in his leg. He blinked desperately, trying to orientate himself, but it was no use, darkness was creeping in the edges of his vision, slowly filling his head, replacing the pain. And he let it, icy relief flooding him, as it consumed him completely.

They were a mixed bunch, these River pups, not unlike his own litter he supposed. A dark girl, who’d otherwise been sitting with the adults, came over and introduced herself right away, earning a surprised, yet pleased smile from the mousy boy. She looked a little younger than the two pale pups, but made up for it with a bubbling attitude that the others seemed to lack. The white girl, introducing herself as Lavender, still seemed bored with the whole thing while her sister - they had to be, keeping close like that - seemed more nervous? Twitching oddly as she gave her own name, and a nickname too. Gale wagged his tail happily, ears twitching at the curious, agouti lass; This was the first time he had met another pup with a second name, like him and his siblings. “It’s nice to meet you!” He said, ever the gentleman his mother had raised him as, looking between the three girls and beaming brightly.

Behind them the adults seemed to have finished their deliberations, starting off down the hill. Griffin glanced over his shoulder briefly, watching them depart with a small crease between his brows. Like the others, he would have liked to partake in the actual chase, but he’d been told beforehand that it wasn’t to be and was intend on using the time, instead, to make new friends. They were supposed to be watching but; What good will that do? Anyway, the other pups were much more interesting than some hunt, at least Gale thought so. “Have you been hunting before? Where’s Risaela?” He’d hoped to meet the girl again today, but there was no sign of her - apparently she’d stayed home, just like his siblings; Bo-ring! How they could pass up an opportunity like this, he could not fathom, but he was sure gonna have a story to tell when he got home. Grinning at the three girls, the sparrow pup fell into a play bow, tail wagging high over his back.

The hunting adults in the distance were completely forgotten as he attempted to lure the other puppies into play. Until a blood-curdling cry filled his ears. Shooting back up, head swivelling, Griffin looked out over the tundra with eyes widened in horror. He’d never heard that voice sound so anguished, yet there was no doubt who it was. “Dad!” The miniature wolves were hunting a long-haired beast across the plains, only one figure was left behind, sprawled horribly in their wake. The boy didn’t pause to think, he simply sprang into action, racing out towards the hunters, as fast as his lanky legs could handle. There was no room in his mind for the danger of the running bull, or its displaced herd still scrambling about in fright. All his fear was directed towards the crumbled figure, quickly growing bigger up ahead.

Skidding to a halt, he almost stumbled over the body, bowing down to nudge his father’s cheek, but with no result. Drestig’s face was slack, his eyes closed, and his head rolled limply as his son nudged it again, a little harder; “Dad..?” Straightening back up, Gale looked towards the rest of the hunting party, shouting at the top of his lungs: “Help! @Neko, someone!” Whatever had happened to his father, the healer would know what to do right? Please..! The Rye leader lay motionless, his leg bend out at an awkward angle, his breathing ragged and horribly shallow. Griffin felt sick to his stomach, heart pounding madly as he looked down at him, tears welling up in his eyes; “Hurry..!”

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