Shadewood Maybe I'll find myself sitting on that distant shore

Chases Crows smiled back at her. Bright eyes shimmering as his tail whisked behind him. "If you could do it, you would too," he commented, his smile splitting into a broad toothy grin until he swept to her side and put his teeth to the carcass. There was more to his desire to mark the edge of the two rivers than the simple fact that he enjoyed the act of doing so. There was primal ambition in his blood, and a hunter's appreciation for fine hunting grounds that rode on his innate need to provide for his pack. The wolf beside him? She was his pack. They were but two, but that was enough for him. They were pack.

Bracing his forepaws on the hindquarters, he tugged and plucked eagerly at the meat and hide, working his jaws not so much out of necessity, for there was easier flesh to consume, but for the pleasure of doing so. He liked to utilize the strength in his jaws and neck, he liked to feel his teeth slice through skin and muscle, to hear bone crack under his bite. In any thing, the wolf liked to ply himself against it, to test and measure himself, to see what he could do and what he could not, to know where his paws could travel and where not. His take on the world could be summarized thus: he lived to the live the life of the wild wolf.

Grawlix casually shifted closer to Sunday, crowding into her space with marked nonchalance as he tore off a chunk of meat and gnashed it between his teeth before swallowing.

Ever the devil.