The horizon brought with it a dark, dark wave of wolves, crashing and thumping, a heartbeat that was not the weakness of its owner.

A heartbeat that was not one that their enemy aimed to strike at, but one that was Strong, a weapon.

The Hunters and Betas gathered beneath the rock the Alpha stood upon, their great sea of fur heaving, as if a terrifying but powerful creature kept kicking up the water, pushing as hard as it could.

Closer closer, they approach, their breath betraying hints of their previous meal

Upon us, claw at them, claw, claw

A bite, shoulder hurts

Blood draining, not mine

Dead around me

Dead theirs

Dead my own

Blood

Pant, pant, pant, breath.

Pain, pain like the sharp sting of sleet burying itself deep into your fur, a small mammal that never leaves you.

Victory is in the eye of the beholder, wolf carcasses littered the ground, abnormally large snowflakes that drifted there, in the span of heartbeats, from nowhere.

And to nowhere they return.