Walrus huffed and puffed as she labored over her kill, dragging it through endless mounds of snow in order to bring it to the Chasm's borders. The trail she left was deeply-dug and smeared with the fawn's blood. It oozed still from the torn flesh of its throat, though nowhere near as freely as it once had. When at last she found herself enveloped in the scent of the pack she'd previously stumbled upon, the woman released her jaws and stood straight, rolling the muscles along her back from shoulders to hip in an effort to ease their tension.
It had been a bit of work, transporting the kill on her own in this weather. Hopefully, it would be worth it - otherwise she would be dragging it right the hell back, sharing with no one.
Without addressing her messy appearance much less any kind of ceremony, Walrus tossed back her head and sent up a howl. It called, loud and clear, for the wolves that lived here to come judge her offering.