Larkcall Lowlands My race is not yet run

The woman watched as her alpha and fellow pack mates followed at the heels of the bison, keeping up with its every move. She kept her eyes alert and focused in order to make sure Raela, Cal, and Danica weren’t in any preventable danger.  Moraxia’s heart dropped as she watched the cow turn itself towards the wolves in a desperate attempt to fight back against the predators. A horn that was directed at Raela swung by her; the amber backed woman continued to hold her breath and slowed her pace to get a better view of what was going on.

It seemed the bison was in no mood to go down easy, its distraught endeavors to end the carnivore’s relentless pursuit enduring the jests from the pack at her feet. Again and again it turned to attack Raela, fighting with all its might to keep the wolf at bay—yet still the woman urged the bison onwards toward where Moraxia was located, Gent by her side. She casted a quick worried look at the man; his face still seemed confident in the pack’s capabilities.

Returning her gaze ahead of her Moraxia noticed the intensity at which the runners galloped at and tried to imagine herself running at the same speed. ‘Impossible,’ she thought, rolling her eyes at the thought. ‘I’ll have to try my best though.’ Urging her energized limbs forward the wolf sprinted closer to the prey. She would continue to come at an angle but wanted to remain close so she could pounce in and help when the time was right.

 

As the hunt wore on, progressing closer and closer to the take down, Gent's excitement and confidence began to wear thin. It had seemed certain to the confident titan that the whole ordeal would be completed without a single hitch, and that they would end the day by dining like gastronome s, but now such thoughts were displaced further from his mind. In his core he knew still that everything was under control, but Raela's close calls threatened to chase away those sureties. Each time those horns swung her way, clipping her tail or causing her to grimace, the hair along his spine crept higher into the air, and he had to consciously hold himself back from leaping into the fray too early.

Subconsciously his paw steps followed Moraxia and her pacing, pale eyes never meeting her features as they were too focused on ensuring the others' safety. His tongue itched for blood, to end the mammoth prey's life before it could get a lucky swing in, and when at last it began to unwittingly cooperate he poured his anxious energy into his muscles to break into the speed they would need to time this all just right. As it seemed that Raela was now less in the way of danger, he looked to Danica and Calanthe momentarily, gauging their individual well being. Calanthe was proving herself quite the hunter, and so he had little in the way of worry for her, but he could not know what Danica's experience level was. He wondered what was running through her head, and how she was faring with the ordeal.