Deepwood Weald BWP3: PREY OPPORTUNITY

the slow, disapproving tones of a man he had once known came to him, but taltos felt no guilt as he lifted a dripping muzzle and looked into scimitar's eyes. diplomacy would not feed donnelaith, nor his children -- he sensed that the alpha wished to mince words, but lasher did not.

nor did he wish to fight; his wolves had not yet arrived and he would not seek to claim the carcass alone. a pale flash alongside him brought a menacing snarl from the druid, but as the neverwinter wolves gathered, lasher determined not to remain. "scimitar. your mind is made," came his cool greeting, gaze sweeping the assembled wolves.

with that, he carved a large piece of flesh from the corpse, as big as he could carry, and began to back away in the direction of donnelaith, refusing to turn his back until it was evident he would not be followed. his quarrel was not with the man, but with the famine that made such brutes out of them all. his murkwater eyes were watchful.