Silver Moraine like a waterfall, my tears dropped to the floor, the floor

At the shout, both River and the elk turned startled gazes towards the perpetrator. It was a broad white wolf -- undoubtedly male, given his voice -- roving as he commanded all the attention in the area. Smaller prey in the vicinity vanished, and a flock of mourning doves took to the skies. The elk bellowed in the direction of the ghostly hunter, and swung his antlers in a proud show of intimidation.

River, on the other hand, had settled back into a crouch. She didn't like to be ordered around, and fully intended to ignore the other wolf, until she realized that his motive was to join her, not warn her away entirely. Their chances were better together. Wounding the creature would be an easy task between them, and they could inflict twice as many lacerations, bloodletting the crowned animal quickly. She was warm to the prospect of not spending her whole night chasing this elk to its eventual death.

Keep its attention, River assented. I'll go for the ankles. With practiced movements, she took up a position opposite of the pale stranger, preparing herself to stream forward the second the elk's back was to her.