Wapun Meadow You can't be late until you show up.

The caches were low. They'd made small kills here and there but with the pups growing larger and stronger everyday, there was a constant need to keep Tonravik fed so she could, in turn, feed the kids.  Their failed hunt hadn't helped this week. Yes, as a pack, they'd managed to find a few things here and there, but in his mind it simply wasn't enough. They needed something a little bit bigger. Something more substantial that snacks. He wasn't going to find anything like that on the Spire. There was too much blood in the air for any creature to feel safe enough to fall into the jaws of a wolf.

He removed himself from the packlands and ventured lower. The jagged spires that served as trenches to the pack were difficult even for him. With time, stubbornness, and the patience that came with his persistence, he eventually made it to the foothills and into the valley below. He'd seen the meadow. He turned his paws towards it now as he had bird on the brain. A pheasant. Hell, a turkey would be fine. Anything a little fatter that he could drag along and haul back up the rock face toward home.

Paw over paw, he approached the meadow and found no sight of bird. Or rather, fewer traces than he wished. Instead, there was the scent of something else. Not deer. They were smaller than that. Golden antelope with their pronged horns that looked nimble and built for speed. He lingered in the grass, sinking low so he might stalk them more effectively. If he were to steal one of them, he'd best be go about it quickly before they detected his presence.

He gathered his strength, coiling like a snake before he sprang and gave chase. One of them. All he needed to fell was one. He ran. He chased. He hunted.