Dawnlark Plains Madly

The sight of wild horses on the neighboring plain excited Masquerade, reminding her of one of her first successful big game hunts. There had only been two that day, one of them so ill it had succumbed to the four wolves. But here she counted nine and all appeared hale and healthy as they marched across the open grassland, heading east.

Unable to resist coming closer, Masque trailed behind the herd. She dropped her nose to sniff at the hoof prints and heaps of dung they left in their wake. The scents stirred the hunter’s bloodlust and she thought to fall back and collect some of her pack mates to hunt one of them, perhaps the young mare who appeared to be pregnant.

Before she could act on this thought, the stallion at the head of the herd abruptly whickered and broke into a trot. The other eight horses quickly followed suit, their hooves thundering toward the moraine. Masque knew the rugged terrain would slow them, though there was no time to summon her comrades for a hunt.

Nevertheless, the young she-wolf galloped after the herd, keeping pace about fifty yards behind the elder mare straggling in the back. This required her to run close to her top speed, her heart thudding in her chest as she chased the wild horses purely for the excitement and adrenaline rush.