Wapun Meadow Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight

y’all are GREAT! Round two ends January 23.
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Wolves gathered, young and seasoned together. She greeted them with a happy chuff as one after another her packmates arrived with eagerness in their eyes, hunger in their wetted lips. The bison could be scented even from here in the Valley; the heavy snowfall could obscure vision, but not smell. 

She motioned for her packmates to draw near, forming a tight circle so their breath might rise as one thick mist, and so her words could be spoken barely above a whisper. She set herself so she would be facing Towhee Jr directly; she did not have enough Ptero to be able to translate everything correctly, but knew the woman could read lips. The bithon herd thtruggleth in the Thnow, She blinked away a few heavy snowflakes. The thtrong forge the path, the thmaller,  weaker oneth follow. They thplit into many lineth; we will creep forward until we can thee’em, an’ target the latht two in line, in the nearetht line.

The two, smaller bison would be enough to feed them- but less likely to wound them than the bull that led the string. 

The bison’s progress was slow, laborious; it would give them the opportunity to get near. They would not be heard over the crunching of snow beneath mighty hooves, or be seen through the heavy snowfall until it was too late. 

Anthuhlin, Cole, Tvar, Nephele, Zephyra, Anatolia, Andrelia, Athelle an’ Athalia- I want you to harry the retht of the herd into motion. Get them away from the target. Thend ‘em flyin. They should panic and go, but watch yourthelveth. Bithon are mean. She said with a nod. Milan, Athella, Dolce, Rala, Towhee Jr- you’re with me. We’re gonna thircle our target, keep ‘im itholated. Nip at ‘im to make him thcared, but hold him in pothition while the retht cometh back. Then each group target-th one, an’ we kill ‘em both, eat like royalty.

Got it? She asked once, rhetorically- before she sank into a hunter’s crouch, and began to make her way through the hazy snowfall toward the Meadow.

There, just as they had been before, long strings of Bison ploughed through the snow, their heavy heads and shoulders almost completely covered by fallen snowflakes. Heads bowed, the leader of each throng tossed away snow using its great forehead to heave it away, its horns to break through the crust. Behind each leader, a line of smaller animals.

Ameline’s eyes locked on the final two bison, in the nearest line. She checked once with her packmates for readiness, before she began to fly through the snow, circling around behind the string so she could be among the first to form a wolf corral about the final two bison, eyes sharp and teeth revealed in an eager grin.