Ouroboros Spine Under the bludgeonings of chance

Tonravik moved on the outside, her eyes noting the red one finding her way in. It was dangerous; the other played with fire. But the herd kept pace, neither slowing or quickening, even as Tonravik provoked with flashing fangs and snapping jaws. Tonravik knew the weight of the others were more than her own; there was little she could do. So she slowed some, watching the herd, and watching Salamander appear and disappear within it. Where was the weakest one. The limper was nowhere to be seen, but it took a sniff to realize there was blood in the air. 

No doubt the others hasty movements would lead the scab to open and some blood to come forth. Tonravik followed her nose. The wolf was surprised to see, as she rounded the crowd, it keep good pace with the others. It would need something else to hinder its movements to be brought down; it was doing... well. And with the hunt tomorrow, Tonravik was scouting the weakest link. Even the weak one did not appear so weak. And so Tonravik picked up the pace, her eyes on the prize. She would harass this one, and make it bleed some more.