Swiftcurrent Creek I will grind your bones to make my bread [Pack Hunt]

The night was creeping in, but it was slow. The sky had recently begun to pepper the ground once again with fresh snow and for a time, Njal sat and watched. His silver fur became layered by fluffy flakes, while his head rooted around his curled tail in search of heat. He was all curled up despite the early hour. A long day of tracking, patrolling, and a few attempts at fishing had led Njal to a state of withdrawal. He was tired and disinterested in much else besides sleep.

But he heard the crunch of snow, and began to listen. His ears twisted carefully beneath the thin layer of snow. He lifted his nose carefully and sniffed, inhaling the cold air, and the musk of prey. The man shifted carefully around. He tried to watch for movement and felt a sudden heat within his body; a small rise of adrenaline as his dull eyes crept along the horizon. Njal was lucky - the target was not as close as he initially thought.

It paused, perhaps wary, or perhaps it had heard him. Regardless, he waited for the creature to be a few more lengths ahead of him - and then, as he rose to his paws, he threw back his head and called out to the pack.

"I've found dinner," the song rumbled, rolling across the plains with a fresh enthusiasm. "Come, help, eat."