Great Bear Wilderness pale touch

The fog curled around them as they charged across the open span of ground; the timberline was beginning to rise up and grow as they neared the dense wood ahead. It was then that Dirge saw his companion seize the doe’s leg in a classic manner—latch and release, the break of skin and cry of pain mixing with rediscovered horror. To another of her ilk it would have been a sorrowful occasion to know what was happening, but to the wolves that always seemed hungry her cry was a motivator.

He grabbed at her flank from the opposite side—another cry.

He grabbed again, this time at her side to rend flesh from muscle ever so slightly. She staggered and swerved, bucking at the wolves in pain and out of desperation. A final stand that would leave her slowed and confused; the taste of her blood on his tongue awoke many things in him as though it was the first time all over again, and hunger gnawed where it did not before.

Long legs drew him beside her where this time Dirge chose to crash into her with a timed leap to set her off balance. He knew without entirely knowing that this was the beginning of her end, that her undoing would come push and pincer between he and his hunting partner. Whether she toppled and eventually tumbled to bleed did not matter, they would have her soon.