Northstar Vale pale widows

they do follow. one by one, they join him in the chase. he smiles, tail wagging slightly in exuberance. solo hunts are all fine and well, but there is no better feeling than running down game in a pack. even if they don't like him—

well, perhaps, if he proves himself, they'll like him. with time.

the white wolfess is with him in shepherding the aging female away. then the other woman comes, blocking off its escape. the two men are next, one shadow darker than the other, lingering just out of reach as they nip at the quarry. then the leader seizes a hip and pulls, and the doe begins to stumble.

almost. . .almost at the tipping point. stanislav can taste her tender flesh. his lithe body darts in, like a snake, reaching for her leg. just a snip of that achilles tendon and she will go down like thunder, down down down HE FINDS IT!——

the animal's other forehoof connects with the wanderer's head—even as weakened as she is, a blow like that is still powerful. his skull cracks instantly, fragmenting into his brain, and he drops in the blink of an eye.

perhaps the others continue on—they must, for their own sakes—but stanislav cannot. he is still, blood and brains oozing slowly out to mix and cool in the snow.