Tonravik moved toward
pukulria, having all the desire in the world for a bone. The alpha female wandered slowly in the midday heat up until she arrived to the area that seemed to somehow grow in the number of bones it held, despite how many had been taken from it. Tonravik went for a visible femur laying on its side, but when she noted that it was buried deep (and it being ninety degrees), she decided not to exert her energy on that particular bone.
Settling for an aged, stained tibia of what looked to be a deer, Tonravik dragged it, head tilted as it pulled against the earth. The alpha female moved to a spot of shade, and began to chew tiredly.
Hunger was one of the most primal sensations to any beast. It lent a sense of urgency to any situation, a greed, and for Salamander that greed became malicious. She had been mid-patrol when the pangs of great hunger suddenly slammed in to her, like an uppercut to the stomach, so she cut the march short and headed for a nearby cache. Upon discovering it to be empty, the woman groaned (which was more like a growl), and headed deeper in to the territory. A hunt might have been necessary - but Salamander had proven her gamekeeping prowess (practically no skill at all), and she was not looking forward to it.
In fact, she wasn't looking forward at all.
With her nose nearly dirt-level and her agitation growing while she paced, Salamander was tracking the scent of some kind of prey. It might have been a rat for all she cared; but it wasn't wolf, and the scent of it made her salivate, leaving clusters of bubbly spit behind as she wandered. With her head down and her mind focused entirely on eating the next thing she found, she managed to walk right in to a wide trunked tree. The sound of her head conking against the bark resounded through the shade, but was dwarfed by Salamander's rage-filled bellow.
The woman, who had taken to chewing her bone in the shade, heard the sound from a distance. It was very clearly a wolf, though one not in the best of moods. Given the other was nearby, Tonravik imagined that she may be in her trajectory; so the alpha female lingered there, sure that the other who had made the sound would reveal herself in time.
Tonravik herself continued to gnaw. She wanted to reach this marrow, and she did so with intense concentration written on her face. Her fangs pressed and pressed as she continued, her mind blissfully numb and empty in this instinctual process. One ear flit backward, listening for the sound of the roaring wolf's approach.