The wolves actually exchanged glances at the sudden appearance of animals that looked like walking deads. For a brief moment, they hesitated, their heads tilting, their ears flattening against their skulls. They had never seen anything like this before, creatures that should be rotting but were standing, creatures that didn't smell like prey or predator. Then they growled sharply, a low, guttural sound that rolled through the trees.
Then they attacked.
They lunged forward, their movements fast and coordinated, the kind of synchronized assault that had brought down deer and travelers and anything else that wandered into their territory.
They probably done this before, maybe a couple of times, attacking lone travelers who wandered too far from the main roads, or deer that strayed too close to the pack's hunting grounds. That was how wolves survived.
