It was already early spring, but up in the mountains, the snow had yet to melt away. In some areas where the sun could reach, streams cascade through cracks in the Earth, bringing fresh water from the ice caps.
Feeling the cracking of sticks and the shaking of grass, a flock of grouse flew away from their nest, unprepared and in chaos.
But Beichen wasn't interested in small, little games.
BANG!
A defeated cry hollered throughout the basin.
The bullet went straight through the brain, and blood splattered on the snow where the wolf lay lifeless and cold.
"Nice shot," Dr. Mo remarked, handing a water bottle to Beichen, who seemed uninterested in his flatter.
"Shit, this one's a new mother," he added after seeing the swollen udder with milk.
Beichen glanced at the dead wolf, hearing his friend's observation, but said nothing.
Dr. Mo sighed, "Well, there's no choice. She must've gotten infected after coming out to hunt. Those poor cubs."
