Wapun Meadow running home, running home

Cole was a shadow behind her, heavy-footed but no less swift, his bulk surging forward with a force that spoke of years honed in experience. Rala’s slender frame wove through the snow with an agility that outpaced him, her jaws snapping onto the buck’s leg with precision. The crack of bone was all the signal he needed.
His steps thundered as he closed the distance, the buck’s stuttering gait leaving it vulnerable. When the prey faltered, Cole did not hesitate. He lunged, his massive jaws clamping around the beast’s under throat.
His growl was deep and guttural, a sound that echoed with the ferocity of the wild as the buck struggled beneath his hold. Blood stained the snow in crimson splatters, painting the scene of the massacre.