Hudson and Adelard had placed themselves a decent distance apart from each other so that they would be able to be the last line to cut off the women’s chosen target for the take down. His greyscale gaze flickered between the direction of the herd and Adelard, keeping him in his sights in order to give the cue when the time came. He tried his best as well to hunker down by a shrug to obscure his form, but his salt-and-pepper pelt did no such favors for him. It did him some favors in the winter, such as soaking up more of the sun’s rays to keep him warm, but it also made him stick out like a sore thumb on top of the pale snow.

They laid in wait for what felt like forever before the sounds of hooves pounding on the ground could be heard. The earth quaked beneath their paws and he gave a sharp look to his partner, rising ever so slightly into a position more suitable for pouncing with his powerful haunches tucked beneath him, ready to lunge forward at a moment’s notice. It grew louder and louder until the herd burst over the small hill that separated them, flying past in a flurry of panicked mooing and hawing. He looked around with narrowed eyes, trying to find the forms of the ladies and pinpoint which one they’d managed to separate. After another couple of minutes they appeared, tailing after the last of the Elk and corralling it with a surprisingly fine-tuned grace for a group who had never worked together before.

Once the Elk was just about to pass them, Hudson lunged from where he lay, his dark legs powering over the earth until he leapt, forelegs outstretched before him to rake down the haunches of their prey. He sunk his teeth into the flesh, attempting to rip a chunk out before he was flung off by a kick. He landed on the ground with a thud and a grunt, getting to his paws and shaking off the snow from his pelt before going at it again, making sure to work around Adelard and the ladies.

His companions were pulling their weight and more to bring down their meal. Saga and Rhaegara continued after it’s heels, the bulky mammal stumbling with an alarmed bleat sounding into the air but its family was long gone. It was survival of the fittest in this cold world and it would pay with its life for being the weakest link. His silver gaze caught Adelard latching onto the injured hock, though his breathing indicated he was beginning to tire. It wouldn’t be long before he had to let go and they needed to take it down before then. “One of ya’ll go fer th’ throat, Adelard n’ I’ll hold it from th’ back,” he barked before dashing back in himself. His teeth clasped around the fragile ankle of the animal, biting down until he could physically feel the tendons snapping under the pressure. This time, even as the animal gave a weak kick, he held on. Soon it would go down, one of the women would find purchase in its throat, and it would all be over.