Meadowlark Prairie Oh Lord, Heaven Knows We Belong Way Down Below [Pack Hunt]

they ran, they drew blood. it was the lore of the wolf; the stink of the bison rising high and rank in his nostrils. merrick was reminded, as he snapped and wove between the other nightwalkers, of the stag hunt he had led in the hollow
nunataq
no!
dead to him, dead as any of them, dead as they must be and must stay
merrick coursed silently, jaws smeared with crimson and ears filled with the pound of his own beating heart.