Big Salmon Lake Almost like home

Fangs rent flesh, and the male's roar broke the heavy silence of their battle, turning on his heel and bolting. The woman stared after him with something like dissatisfaction; she took no pleasure in the quick, dirty fights. It was the drawn-out dances, the cycle of attack and parry, that brought her pleasure. Salmon tongue drew slowing across her split lip, catching the blood before it could slip down onto the snow. When the figure of the male retreated entirely did the woman resume her journey around the lakeshore, casting about for anything that would serve as a meal while ignoring the slowly clotting wounds on her face, the burn of them far too familiar.