The Hunt

Speed and stamina were her gifts. Through the silent forest and out onto the snow covered plains, she ran. She did not falter when the snow became deep, or when the wind blew with an icy chill, hard enough to push through the dense layers of her coat.

She did not have to look to know he was there, just behind. There was no question, the others too were spread out, waiting for her. Waiting for her decision.

There it was. That scent that promised full bellies, promised life.

With a practiced, almost uncanny efficiency, the pack circled the herd, searching for weaknesses. She spotted it quickly. With no room for doubt, she ran down her prey, directing it towards the deep snow drifts the wind had cast throughout the frozen landscape.

She made the first contact, biting and nipping with her snow white fangs, until the pack rushed in behind her.

Warm red blood dotted the snow, and they howled victoriously, reveling in the fullness of their bellies and the success of the hunt.

There was an urgency now to get back, reunion on her mind. Again, it was she that left the kill first, leading the pack home, their bellies full almost to bursting.

A familiar scent met her as they slipped between the trees with an eerie silence. Her ears pricked forward as she heard their sharp cries, and her tail began to swing as their small brown faces peaked above the entrance to the den. Home.