Frost crunched beneath his paws as he padded along. It astounded him how the cold substance managed to thrive in such a hot environment. His tongue lolled from his jaws as he panted, the merciless sun beating down on him. Tahoe paused for a moment, eyes panning the desolate landscape. The plains were rather simplistic, an endless grassland dappled by occasional patches of rock and ice. A more sizable chunk of snow gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight. He strode toward it, bending downward for a a few licks. The icy sensation numbed his hot tongue. Pleased, the lupine lifted his skull, continuing on his way. His travelling partner, Alejandro, was up ahead. He allowed him a significant lead, choosing to assume a more indolent gait. Soon enough, he espied the familiar man's motionless silhouette in the near distance. McBride lumbered toward him without haste. Eventually, he caught up to him. 

What? He mumbled as an apathetic greeting. 

Tahoe stared at him blankly, no distinguishable emotion in his deadened eyes. Alejandro's words sparked no reaction. He was used to being nagged by his family. They were gone now, but their antics had left him with a surfeit of patience. McBride was never a doormat though, often choosing to assert his pertinacious attitude at will. An enervated yawn escaped his maw. Insouciant, he traipsed past St. Clair without a word. He ventured a few yards ahead before halting, peering back over his shoulder before addressing the man. 

Eh, we'll be fine. Don't give a damn about some frost. What's your plan then, Chief? He questioned, the words laced with his monotonous brand of droll sarcasm. 

Tahoe couldn’t deny it. A meal would be great to have right about now. His stomach emptily clawed at his belly in protest, demanding to be filled. He ignored the sensation, diverting his thoughts to focus on how to obtain food, rather than yearn aimlessly for it. Alexandre had suggested rabbits, but Tahoe wanted more. He was accustomed to bringing down large game with his pack—rabbits would be more challenging to pursue in such an open environment anyway. Yet, McBride knew not to set his hopes up for anything big. Whichever prey they happened to stumble upon would suffice. Now was not the time to be picky. 

Almost anything will do. You up for anything larger? There’s bound to be deer ‘round here. Reckon we could get a fawn. He suggested.

He scoffed, momentarily meeting Alejandro’s gaze before turning away. You underestimate me, was his response, a subtle twinge of amusement in his voice. 

McBride prided himself on being self-sufficient, navigating scent trails was a breeze. The problem was locating said scent in the first place. Tahoe ambled forth, wasting no time. Blades of dewy grass tickled his nostrils as he stooped, closely inspecting the fields for any faint signs an ungulate had passed through.  

He didn't bother replying to the man. Hunger stifled his willingness to even think about making conversation. Tahoe lifted his head, his eyes stoically panning the grasses ahead. Ears pricked, he lumbered forth, his attention clearly focused upon something. A small gathering of ice had been disturbed, fractured by an animal who had impetuously stepped on it. McBride had nearly reached it when Alejandro called to him. He exhaled, peering over his shoulder to see what his companion had found. The indomitable beams of sunlight battled his eyes, forcing him to squint. Through his slitted gaze, he managed to somewhat identify what Alejandro had pointed out—half based on assumption, thanks to his previous discovery. Tahoe gave a hasty nod of acknowledgement, then wordlessly turned, going ahead to investigate the other footprint he had located. Surely the spotted man would get the message.

Tahoe paused above the hoofprint, a sharp exhale exiting his nostrils after giving the decimated ice a thorough sniff. Without a doubt, the print was made by a deer. Based on the scent's freshness, their quarry had to be lingering nearby. 

Do you see them? Inquired Alejandro, approaching. McBride flicked an ear his way, but signaled nothing more to him. He figured St. Clair was capable of using his eyes. They were probably sharper than his anyway.

They're somewhere 'round here. Go ahead. He answered in a low mumble, following the beaten trail the deer had created without further delay. He kept his gait furtive, it would be a foolish mistake if he were to spook the prey early—potentially costing them the whole hunt. Tahoe felt it would be more efficient if St. Clair were to lead. He assumed he would be faster, based upon the man's spry stature. Speed was not Tahoe's strongsuit, but he made up for it in stamina. If Alejandro could slow down their target, Tahoe would certainly be there to assist in the takedown.

Adrenaline coursed in his veins as he laid eyes on the ungulates. His heart thumped in his chest, echoing in his eardrums. Tahoe's gaze flickered to Alejandro, who he found was at the ready. The subtle motion from his companion was all he needed to understand his intentions. Alejandro sprung like lightning, pursuing the scattering herd as they fled in sheer terror. Without trouble, he deftly managed to isolate the doe that bore a limp in her step. A prime target. Once the pair veered his way, McBride sprang from his crouch and into action. A guttural growl escaped his jowls as he sprinted, fixated upon the doe's injured hind limb. Upon reaching St. Clair's side, he lunged, sinking his incisors deep into the doe's left hock. Subsequently, this anguished the doe and caused a last-ditch burst in speed. Tahoe adjusted accordingly, keeping his jaws locked in place. She wasn't able to keep her gait up for long, significantly slowed by the weight and pain the man had inflicted.

The old doe stood no chance against the pair. Tahoe could feel the energy to fight ebbing away from her muscles with each laborious bound. Alejandro was like a fish in water, deftly managing to sink his teeth into the doe's neck. She refused to go down easily though. The ungulate was effectively slowed to a meager jog now, bone-weary and unable to escape. She summoned what strength she had left to carry the two of them as she moved. McBride could empathize with her. He panted, his lungs burning from the long sprint. Unlike the doe, he had much more energy to burn. 

At last, the debilitated animal could go on no longer. A growl rumbled within him as he mercilessly yanked at the idle doe's limb. She struggled to right herself, Alejandro still suspended from her throat. Persistently, Tahoe pulled again. This time he used much more force, jerking the doe's leg far from under her—a twisted game of tug of war. She didn't fight his excruciating tactics now, stumbling lamely backwards onto her belly. 

The deer tumbled to the ground with a dull thud. Alejandro still had her by the throat, the pursuit finally concluding. Tahoe could feel the doe's remnants of strength vanish through his clenched jaws. She was dead. He promptly released, panting as he walked over toward the bulk of the carcass. McBride plunged his teeth into its thick hide, a breathy growl of effort bubbled in his throat as he began to pull and tear the stomach open. Soon enough he had punctured a sizable opening. The wolf shoved his snout in, ravenously consuming what flesh was available. St. Clair observed nearby, offering him a weary congratulations. 

I'm fine. You? He responded, voice muffled by his full mouth.