Any other time of year such a swelling of ranks would be considered a boon, but with prey on the run and the snow growing deeper by the day Morganna just couldn't bring herself to be happy about it. "Of all the shitful timing..." She pushed through another snowdrift looking for any sign of wide churned up tracks that would hint at something worth catching. She needed to kill something. To rip and tear and taste blood on her tongue. Sparring wasn't enough for this level of frustration, it was the willows all over again. Don't be hasty, and look how that turned out.
She could smell them on the breeze even if she couldn't see their tracks. So they must have been heading towards her instead. Scattered stones served as a visual shield as the familiar high pitched yattering of the coyotes drew nearer. There were at least two and while the odds may have been stacked against her she wasn't about to let something like numbers get in her way. The first to come into sight wasn't yet a yearling and she attacked with reckless abandon, heedless to the two angry parents following close behind. Her teeth closed over the middle of the narrow spine, a satisfying crunch and yelp all the warning the parents needed. It was over for the youngster whether he knew it yet or not. There was only so far he could drag himself with two front limbs.
She dropped her prize and stepped over it, pinned ears and peeled teeth daring the other canines to come and get him. She'd more than happy to do the same for them.