Ravenshook Cliffs winter ghost

The pale wolf seemed to lower himself at the sight of Kierkegaard’s snapping canines. His unfamiliar red gaze was wide and the fur along his back spiked. Though the ashen brute did not seem to care much for the show of submission – they were both without pack – he could feel a burning in his gut that surprised him. A hunger that pressed on his mind and offered thoughts that would not have normally come to the ghostly savage. The Sairensu had the advantage of placement; his body was tucked well inside the cavern and was not likely to be knocked through the opening. However, the ruby-eyed wolf could be forced outside… thrown from the edge of the cliff. It would be easy to appear an accident and though they were both starved of prey, Kierkegaard knew that he would feed well on this other wolf.
 
The trembling words struck his ears, and Kierkegaard’s fiery gaze snapped to the other male. He was already tense and driven to a point of desperation that most would not easily identify with. Drawing his flush-colored tongue across his lips, he took a single step backwards and peered dominantly at the other stranger. “You will leave as soon as the rain subsides,” he snarled.