HUNT: You literally couldn't get out of bed

Slapping a narrative ending on this, woo.

As the split pack came together, the first of the herd came down swiftly. Somewhere in the chaos of bellowing and snarling, Mordecai watched as they pick and chose the finest of their kills. His participation was swift in it, not moving in to make the kills so much as corral what he could to increase their time. He had his moments of aiding and needing the aid, ever thankful for the wolves that had come together for the event. A stray or two found a swift end at the teeth of the Ouroboros wolves. Others wandered off through the elevated terrain and woodland to nurse their injuries, and before too long the majority of the herd had evaded their grasp.

What they had taken down he did bother to count, instead joined the filing ranks of their pack in a well earned feast. As the wolves dug into their feast and gained their fill, he felt a sense of contentedness among them. Their caches would be bolstered from the success, and the not so far off winter seemed to be not as bad in that regard. In that moment, they were reasonable strong in light of the nagging sensation that there was a loose cog in their many gears.