Hoshor Plains Bison Hunt 4 [Rodyn's Group]

They worked well together. Mojag watched a dark man strike and withdraw with surprising finesse given their size (Void); others focused on the bison's haunches and ankles, which was dangerous work, and yet more were flanking either side.

He snapped and bit and tore where he could. The act of running across the plains was thrilling on its own—but the more Mojag focused on the work of bringing down the monolithic beast, the more at peace he felt. As if this was what his life had been missing.

Not a father, not a home, not a wife or anything that Moontide had taught him. This act of risking it all, proving to himself and those around him that Mojag was a capable hunter like his mother, and a powerful man, fulfilled him in a way nothing before had.

He snarled close to the bull's mighty head. Leaping to grapple at its stout neck, catching the shoulder instead and holding firmly there; wrenching and cleaving at the hide until there was blood. Mojag tasted it, he felt it spill across his chest as he released his hold and galloped freely alongside.

This. This was everything.