Florence
It had been the better part of day, and the sun had ducked behind the cover of the mountains. The weather became harsh without the sun’s warmth to take off the edge, and the chill sunk into my fur. I carried it with me as I trotted through the snow, my paws and fur slightly wet.
Erik did the same about fifty metres to my left, and we stopped intermittently to scent mark and rub against a rock or tree. We’d come across few other animals, save for the eagles that seemed to be constantly wheeling overhead, and the ubiquitous hawks that roosted in the trees. Our old scenery had been forgotten, and we’d travelled through a narrow mountain pass, and were now following a trickling river, winding under the watch of the mountains, pressed in on either side.
The smell was what I noticed first, before I could pinpoint the source. A herd of bison gathered in the distance, little brown specks somewhat obscured. As we drew closer, I recognised steam drifting heavenward from pools of warm water. The human memories in the back of my mind reasoned that they must be linked to the geysers common in Yellowstone. If I remembered correctly, the surroundings close by were acidic. The bison’s loud, slow chewing indicated that they were oblivious to the chemical dangers of the grass they fed on.
Erik cast a glance in my direction, and I caught the drift of his thoughts. This was what we’d been looking for – prey – to hunt and kill, and leave as a marker of our presence. We’d need to work together to bring down one of the large beasts, and without a pack, we’d certainly have trouble. I allowed Erik to take the lead and pick the target, an action that he mused for quite some time.
The herd shifted and revealed a smaller bison, weak and old from its age. It cowered with the largest of its herd, aware of its weakness. Erik glanced from me to the bison, thrusting his nose in its direction. I understood.
There was no way that we could stealthily approach the herd, there was no cover, and we would be too easily noticed. Instead, we charged full force towards the animals, growls and snarls ripping from our throats. The bison reacted immediately, groaning in concern and slowly compacting into a tighter herd. The larger animals faced us and held their ground.
Erik’s strides brought him shoulder to shoulder with me, as we thundered towards them, snow left compressed and disrupted in our wake. We aimed for one side of the herd, singling out a group that included our target. As we approached, they nervously trampled away from the heard, so as to move out of our path. We had effectively separated them. The smartest of the animals recognised the safety in numbers, and quickly returned to their kin. Our target, the oldest, was not so lucky, and too slow to keep up.
Erik attacked first, launching into the shoulder of the bison; his teeth bared and ready to strike. The couldn’t find purchase in the animal’s thick skin, and instead raked down the hide, eliciting wounds. The smell of blood was overpowering, and my instincts pulled me towards the prey. While Erik tackled the animals from the side, I dove for the throat, and with a little struggle, felt my jaws clench around its throat.
Within split seconds, it would be over, but before I could bite down, I was knocked from behind with force. I tumbled away, and tore the bison’s throat in my exit. It shrieked in response. Turning around, I saw that the other bison had charged at us, protecting their kin. With their massive, muscled shoulder and sharp horns, they were a force to be reckoned with. I scrabbled back to my feet and charged for the weak bison again, hoping to kill it before I was knocked off again.
With a struggle, I locked onto one of its forelegs and kept it grounded while Erik snagged its jugular. I felt a war spray of blood, and the bison struggled, before its actions gradually slowed, and it fell limply to the ground.
