The pack had grown restless even though it was well fed. The leader of the wolves was a regal wolf. He stood in a majestic pose at the top of a slanted rock formation. Snow pelted him as he sniffed the air. He raised his hackles and bared his teeth. The scent of the outsiders was getting closer.
The wolf returned to the pack. They lounged at the edge of an overhanging rock. As the pack leader approached from his jaunt the wolves stood and raised their hackles. There were at least 5 or 6 of them and they were all large.
From the other side of the clearing came the two spirit wolves. They dwarfed all but the leader himself. The leader began to circle the two. The pack yipped and growled in a circle watching what was surely a challenge to leadership. The leader stopped and lowered it's head before pouncing. The fight was loud and the energy was frantic.
The pack could smell blood and closed their circle to be smaller. As the wolves came closer to their next meal they continued to yip and snarl. The blur of motion had slowed. Their leader had not been defeated but was clearly pinned by one of the spirit wolves... the pack howled in unison at the change in leadership.
Far off at the Summit of the Mountain of Dormant Flame a Tauren sat with his legs out steadily beating a drum. The drum beat went on uninterrupted throughout the day and well into the night.