Drip. Drip.
It was near silent, but it felt deafening in her ears as she stared down at the limp body in front of her. The scent she’d come across had enraged her, and the fury had overtaken her in such a fashion that she couldn’t remember a thing… couldn’t remember coming across the slightly smaller creature, or how the scent reminded her of the scene that had been uncovered at the borders not too long ago… a coyote, tusseling with Sonnet… and now she was gone from the pack. She wasn’t dead, but once more another wolf had left them… just like her father… just like Euna… but this time, because another species, a lower species, had deemed it so.
So when she had come across the creature alone, the coyote, and noticed it’s smaller size she had lunged in a strike. Who would it try for next? Khalon? Tuwile? Perhaps even her? She wouldn’t leave it the chance.
It had clearly gotten a few good hits in, a few scratches that caused blood to seep into her ivory fur, ichor that she could wear as a badge of honor for any who dared question her fitness as a wolf… and it’s lifeless body that might serve as a pelt in the pack den… a reminder that no one messed with her own.
Her dark amber eyes showed that she was not yet sated, instead moving to grip the creature’s neck and drag it across the border, intent to drag it to the pack den so all could see the revenge that she had exacted upon those who had messed with the pack… those who had thought themselves stronger than the Backwater.
Or perhaps it was a statement… perhaps it was a statement that she was stronger than her father, whom had left them without a word… or stronger than Euna who had done the same. Perhaps it was a sign of loyalty… even she did not know.
All she knew was that it was done.
And she had won.