Kildeer Rest [m] rain bear

their way of hunting was simple: look for the caribou lying down, strike fast, strike hard. they were usually elders or the very ill, culling themselves as the herd went down through their natal ranges. no one would stop for them nor defend them, and their own protection of self had often been weakened by their inability to eat.

cen peered through the milling legs now, grunting, "there" to red leaf as he lifted a paw to point. the mass of grass-eating bodies parted, and a bull with a broken antler and a greying beard could be seen, resting quietly in the snow.

with a daring glance toward red leaf, cen let out a shout and ran directly at that part of the herd, kicking snow and snapping teeth on the cold empty air.

his posturing worked; the caribou lowed and bleated and stampeded off deeper into the rest, and to its fringes.

cen stalked toward the old one, breath spiraling in the air. the animal's eyes rolled frantically. he struck, and blood stained the white now. "now you, wife," the caribou hunter ordered, stepping back as the herdbeast tried to rise.