Sheepeater Cliff a family of sheep

He paced at the place where sheer rock met the flatlands, the scent of sheep driving his instinct mad. It was a cruel joke for the remaining ungulates in the region to defy gravity thus. And though Tartok was small, and though they were not yet starving, Tonraq knew that if even one of the surefooted creatures met its end, it could feed their small number for quite some time. It would be wise to fill their caches before even these foolish animals had fled the area.

But confident as Tonraq was, a mistake while pursuing the sheep would prove deadly. He knew this. He did not know if it was yet worth it.

He paused for a moment, and lifted his head to howl a message back towards the mountain with powerful lungs. It would reach Tartok, perhaps distant but still clear. It echoed off the sheer cliff face, and the sheep bleated in surprise and discomfort at the sound... but none fell; in fact, not a single one had moved.

Tonraq resumed his agitated pacing, thick muscles rippling beneath glossy black fur.