Bitterroot Valley she had been forced into prudence in her youth,

The she-dog didn't quite make the connection until she caught the way Mahler dug his claws into the earth, only then noticing that the creature was swaying dangerously. It was going to fall. 

The merle released her strangling grasp on the doe's neck and dove to the side with as much force as she could muster, tumbling rather than rolling away when her body struck the ground. A dizzying crash reverberated through the loam, through her bones, and when the seawolf had glanced up again -- the ungulate lay on its side, bested by the duo finally. 

Triumph and pride swelled to life in her chest, haunches wiggling in place of the tail she had been born without. Without prompt, Imaq's head fell back and she howled for both of their packs -- hoping Mahler might join in so that Rivenwood wouldn't be too alarmed by the sound of a stranger calling for those in their ranks. 

Perhaps a few others might spare the time to help them butcher and divvy up portions for both tribes. If not, it would be up to Mahler and Imaq to finish the messy task of splitting up the meat.