Moonspear somewhere only we know

Her father had much in his favor. His momentum, how much of the creature she had thrown he had between his fangs, experience—but she was, in many ways, his daughter... and this was her advantage. He continued to run, and there was not a second she thought to put on the brakes. Hydra pulled back as he did, but he seemed relentless. She could think of only one way to win this, and winning was very much so a part of her competitive agenda. It was a small risk, and if it didn't work she would have to give chase again... but that was fine, she decided, as she simultaneously released the thing. Her own intent wasn't to make him fall but to confuse him—

But she watched it fall to the earth completely! 

Hydra whipped around, snow spraying every which way as she did the wolf-equivalent of a donut, making a mad dash toward the abandoned carcass, a veritable bullet flying out of a gun. But, as misfortune and lack of experience would have it, Hydra moved too swiftly to observe her path, and skid messily on a small, barely visible patch of ice—sliding messily right in the direction of her father. There was no fear on her face, only shock and mild amusement—as a child who had experienced little to no pain in her life, she did not fear death or hurt from this. Still, instinct bid she prepare for impact, and she did so as best she could with what little time they had both been given.