The storm had kept the pack in in their den for almost two days. Now that it was over, the wolves were eager to get out, stretch their legs. But most of all, eager to hunt.
Dire wolves were distinct from their multiple cousin breeds in many ways, and one of them was the way they chose to hunt, usually splitting up into groups to take down more game rather than moving as a whole pack.
Snowfur, Graywind, and Brenna were the quickest group, and so sent out first, hopefully to grab some small game and return back to feed the others so they could track down something more substantial. The girl sat astride the alpha female, sharp eyes searching the white landscape her foster mother nearly blended into.
Up ahead, Graywind suddenly stopped. His hackles raised and a low growl rumbled in his chest and throat. He smelled something. Brenna gave a low, questioning bark.
The young male shook his head, looking back at them with glowing golden eyes. She leaped to the ground, hand going to the hunting knife strapped at her hip as she sniffed the air. Her nose wasn't as sensitive as her family's, but by their stiff stances and snapping eyes, she knew she should be on guard.