Arrow Lake The beat of the drums

Wrapping this up with permission!

As events unfolded below—Kazimir rose with a cry he couldn't hear from there and then the pack was back at it again—Dragomir began drifting down the hill toward them in his rapturous excitement. Vonn allowed him a little leeway, but was quick to herd the boy back when he'd gone a little too far. How could he blame Dragomir? He was only young and unrestrained and this was his life's calling, plain as day.

The wolves regrouped, still equally difficult to tell apart from this distance, and he watched them streak toward the fleeing moose once more. One of them, a daring beast indeed, went for the ankle. Wow! Dragomir exclaimed as the moose began to bleat so loudly that it carried all the way up to the hilltop where Takiyok, Vonn and all the pups were gathered. Two others flanked the injured third as they angled toward the moose, trapping it from one flank while another drove it from the opposite side.

From Dragomir's viewpoint, it was an expertly choreographed dance. The wolves drew the moose in a wide arc, cinching their trap tighter and tighter around it as they went. Whenever they could, whenever it was deemed safe, they jumped in to worry at the tiring cervid's flesh before bouncing back and falling back into formation. He couldn't see the blood from all the way up there on the hill, but he could definitely smell it. It made his mouth water and his stomach tighten with anticipation.

It happened quickly; one minute the moose was wheeling and in the next, one of the wolves had it by an elbow. Another wolf grasped it on the other side at its hock, and the remainder of the pack piled in on it. Thoroughly unbalanced, the moose went down under an onslaught of teeth and bullying bodies. Dragomir's tail was wagging a mile a minute as he hollered, boom! like it was some big show. By the time the pups were shepherded down the hill to have their share of meat, the moose was dead and the pack was enjoying a hearty feast.