the skies flickered and threatened, until final tearing open and pummeling the earth below with driving rain. the sky rumbled, and light tore across the sky, across the darkness. below, stalked the woman, devoid of purpose, intent merely on surviving, which was proving to be rather easy in the heat of summer. he had gone. and so had they, and so had she, or whatever she had been becoming. some things did not change, and it was as if the past year had been for nought, for here she was one more- alone, with nothing in her past but failures and regrets. 

it was some time until she found the coyote. a male, it had followed her with interest, after scenting perhaps the kill she had made a while back, and thinking that it could perhaps scavenge some of her next kill. in the rain, it was some time before she became aware of its presence, and stopped. it made the mistake of drawing near.

it was with coiled rage that she sprang upon the thing with the soundless, unprovoked attack that had become her style over the past few weeks. the battle was brief and gritty, and soon the young male lay at her feet, bleeding, dying. the rain drove into his pelt and hers, and she stood over the thing, bleeding from half a dozen small wounds, and contemplating the greatness of her hunger.
@Astrid, perhaps?

there comes a scent through the rain that ought to set every hair on her pelt bristling. the itch of an enemy never vanquished, or destroyed, or beaten soundly. one that might not have ever been her enemy; should she have chosen differently so long ago. these memories and these scars ought to have her bristling. but they do not, rather, it is with a quiet coolness that she turns to face the woman, the assassin, the wraith, Nemesis. 

"Hm." she offers, as if thoughtful. "Perhaps."  her gaze slips over the carcas between them, rapidly cooling, so alive moments ignored, now ignored and cold. The woman is familiar - has she put on a little weight? - the same, more or less, than she was months ago. "Blackfeather still stands then? I had surely thought you lot would have killed each other by now." she mused, almost thoughtfully, regarding the woman with a curious tilt of her head, representing curiosity that she does not feel. She feels little but contempt, and the slightest feeling that she just might have missed out on something when she chose to follow Burke. "Know, Nemesis, that those you overthrew are - lost, dead, gone, I do not know." She did not know if the information would give her any satisfaction, but she was indeed curious to know just how long Nemesis's grudges lasted.