They met on a wild night, as the wind howled and blustered, tore through the treetops and promised a violent winter. It was not the night for hunting, too hard to track prey when tracks could not last and sounds and scents were blown away. She raced with them instead, all strength, joyous as she pranced with the wolves and dodged them through the trees. Even the ghostly hounds were pleased, their forms shivering and shimmering, sometimes there and sometimes not, unable to be caught but enjoying the game all the same.
She was excited, she told him as they curled up for the night. Her body was very warm, the extra fur making her the perfect companion in the cold. It would serve her well, now that seasons were changing. When the snow arrived, she would be able to shelter her young. When he mentioned this fact, she only grinned toothily, the blush of her nose creeping higher.
When the daylight eased, their stomachs rumbled, hollow. They hunted then, and he discovered her strength was not in quick movements or chasing down small prey. It was in endurance. When she found her quarry, she did not let up. She exhausted them, let them run and run as she loped along, untiring. Then when they had nothing left, no shred of energy left to escape with, that was when she took them down.
Almost gently, the struggle quick, her teeth biting up in the jugular.
He was proud of her, watched with glowing eyes as she tore open the beast and she looked up, a smile in her eyes. The hounds milled around, panting, eyeing the carcass with desperation. But nobody stepped forward, not until he had dipped his head and taken the liver for himself, digging his nose deep into the hot, wet insides to gently take it in his teeth. He swallowed it down, felt the warm slide down his throat.
Only then did the others feast and he stood back to let them, watched as they jostled for space. They had to give her space, she was not afraid to push back or snap, though she was always smiling. The friendly hunter.
They slept later; their bellies full.
‘Be a good mother,’ he urged, and she chuckled.
Her head thumped heavily along his back, a wolf snorted sleepily at his hooves and he felt their heartbeats together, thump thump thump.
‘When they reach the end of their strength, they will always find more,’ he told her. ‘They will be single-minded and strong.’
‘I like that,” she said and bit his shoulder playfully.
They parted the next day and the hounds felt sorry for her loss, a packmate that had moved on, returned to her own life. He was certain she would care well for her family, the little lives growing within her belly, waiting for their chance. One day he would meet them on the hunt and they would run together, just as he had with their mother.