This particular hunt wasn't meant to fully feed the whole pack, just get their strength up for a proper hunt later, so Snowfur singled out a middling sized female near the back of the herd and suddenly sprang forward, silent as a ghost.
Graywind took off toward the front of the herd, letting out an eerie howl that was meant to panic and scattered the animals. It worked, the elk distracted by what they perceived to be the real threat in front of them, unaware of the streak of white skimming toward them across the snow.
Brenna waited a bit, until her foster mother and brother had separated their chosen prey from the rest of the herd, then leaped from her crouch and took off, running at a diagonal to intercept the cow, knife raised to eye level.
The elk balked and tried to turn, but she was caught on both sides by the wolves. Snowfur harried her, nipping at her heels to take her down, and Graywind went for her throat. The two massive animals rolled through the snow, white staining to red beneath them. Brenna saw her opening and struck, leaping into the fray and slashing the creature's throat as quickly and deeply as she could, making the kill as painless as possible.
She and the wolves stepped back from the elk's death throws and, as she always did, Brenna lowered her head and thought a simple prayer, thanking the elk for her sacrifice. She wasn't sure who she was praying to- in fact she'd been so young when the pack took her in she didn't even fully understand that "praying" was what she was doing- but for some reason every time she performed the little ritual an image of a carved wolf her human mother had kept on their mantelpiece flashed into her mind.
Stepping back, she turned to moved toward the drift where they'd left Christopher, Snowfur and Graywind hefting their kill between them. Again unlike their other cousins, dire wolves tended to bring prey back to their den rather than trek the pack out to where the kill had been made.