Redsand Canyon Please fill up my soul [Pack Hunt]

waiting on the fringes of their hunt, renard kept pace as the bulk of the group began to move, sparing only a quick look for the next white wolfdog to appear. too injured to hunt, but someone to keep in mind for later. for now, there was their prey, the mouth of catacombs looming ahead, and a half-dozen pronghorn scattering in every direction.

renard kept their distance, just close enough to be a visible threat, a deterrent to any of them who might try to escape in their direction, avoiding a similar kick to the one derg received to the ribs as they drove the group closer to the tunnels. they followed at speed long enough for the rest of the pack to separate a single pronghorn from the rest – weaker, slower, easier to direct  – and sprinted along its side until it sped into the mouth of the catacombs, the muscle in pursuit.

that was their job. inside the tunnels, renard moved quieter, slinking along the walls and following the echoing snarls and bleats of a fight that rose into the air. it was trapped by the time they arrived: nyra's teeth around its hind leg, praimfaya's jaws fixed around its throat, streaming blood.

casting an eye over her, renard drew close and paused at the same distance, watching derg and donovan bend to eat. the saints weren't the court, and whatever rules donovan had decided on here were suitably unknown – they would wait until they were invited.