The Hunt

On all fours you run, you, and the wolves. You know if somebody sees you it will be okay, for you are in your wolf form. The wolves stop running, perking up their ears, and sniffing the air. And you know why. You can hear the hooves of caribou trotting along, grazing. And you can smell the wounds of an old cow and her calf. You howl with pleasure, telling the others that they should go for the killing of the pair of weak ones. When you get to the grazing spot, the dried blood is very strong in smell. You do not hesititate, you leap onto the old cow, gripping with your claws. You make your way up to the neck, where you bite down hard. The cow grunts in pain, and the calf sqeals in terror. A good ten minutes later, you and the others start to gorge yourselves. You are excepted in the pack. You are one of the wolves now.

Written by Wolfgirl

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