Winter Attack
The pack is hungry, the buffalo is food, the pack is hungry, we need food. The buffalo has seen us, we must surround it, the alpha gives the order. The snow is slippery, I keep slipping, I snarl and regain my balance, the buffalo is fearful, I can smell it, big prey is dangerous, it’s one of the first things we were taught as pups, big prey can get fearful and fearful makes prey dangerous, this buffalo is very dangerous. The alpha knows it, he warns us to be careful, but we already know this. The hunters are staying well back, but still closing the prey in. The alpha attacks first, biting down on its leg, the brown furred buffalo brays in pain and fear and throws the alpha off, he regains his balance quickly, again standing on the slippery snow. The prey is injured, the smell of blood would send most wolves into a frenzy, but not me, nor the alpha. One of the wolfs attack the left side while another attacks the right, the buffalo knocks the right wolf to the ground, he doesn’t rise. The left wolf claws the buffalos side before retreating, carful, carful. the buffalo makes a break for it, running for the gap the dead wolf has left in our circle. Another wolf tries to close the gap and is trampled by the prey’s hooves, the wolf doesn’t rise, we give chase. I bound across the snow, the three remaining wolves close behind the alpha. The prey is slow, slow because of its injured leg and side the buffalo is blocked in again, its fear scent grows stronger, too slow, too slow. The alpha barks an order and I move myself so that the sun is in the buffalo’s eyes, not in my own, the snow is so white its glaring, but that doesn’t hinder me as all four of us attack, the young buffalo falls under our combined weight and, as always, the alpha delivers the final blow, the prey falls dead, red staining the snow. The pack is hungry, the buffalo is food, the pack will not go hungry, for the buffalo is food. Our howls of triumph fill the evening air.
The pack is hungry, the buffalo is food, the pack is hungry, we need food. The buffalo has seen us, we must surround it, the alpha gives the order. The snow is slippery, I keep slipping, I snarl and regain my balance, the buffalo is fearful, I can smell it, big prey is dangerous, it’s one of the first things we were taught as pups, big prey can get fearful and fearful makes prey dangerous, this buffalo is very dangerous. The alpha knows it, he warns us to be careful, but we already know this. The hunters are staying well back, but still closing the prey in. The alpha attacks first, biting down on its leg, the brown furred buffalo brays in pain and fear and throws the alpha off, he regains his balance quickly, again standing on the slippery snow. The prey is injured, the smell of blood would send most wolves into a frenzy, but not me, nor the alpha. One of the wolfs attack the left side while another attacks the right, the buffalo knocks the right wolf to the ground, he doesn’t rise. The left wolf claws the buffalos side before retreating, carful, carful. the buffalo makes a break for it, running for the gap the dead wolf has left in our circle. Another wolf tries to close the gap and is trampled by the prey’s hooves, the wolf doesn’t rise, we give chase. I bound across the snow, the three remaining wolves close behind the alpha. The prey is slow, slow because of its injured leg and side the buffalo is blocked in again, its fear scent grows stronger, too slow, too slow. The alpha barks an order and I move myself so that the sun is in the buffalo’s eyes, not in my own, the snow is so white its glaring, but that doesn’t hinder me as all four of us attack, the young buffalo falls under our combined weight and, as always, the alpha delivers the final blow, the prey falls dead, red staining the snow. The pack is hungry, the buffalo is food, the pack will not go hungry, for the buffalo is food. Our howls of triumph fill the evening air.