Ouroboros Spine and all of our shadows are ashes against the grain

Blackness. Silent, dark, cold, perfect. The rare times she slept were rock solid, save for... now. Racket. That was all she heard. Something banging against something else in an obnoxious manner. Having risen from her short slumber, Kroc now sought out the source of this nonsense. Surprisingly, she wasn't in too terrible of a mood, though she wasn't in a good one either. It was the norm for the Valley Wolf, at the very least. 

Arriving on scene, Kroc took in the visual; a small, dark wolf banging a bone on some rocks. The wolf was familiar, ears tipping in Echelon's direction for a moment. One of the few wolves here that Kroc held any respect for, the beast stayed her anger. Instead, she ventured closer, coming up on the female's left side only to lower her head and snip her teeth at the femur. A movement with no malice behind it, Kroc's way of playing, if a bit rusted and rough. 'Play' wasn't exactly a word in her vocabulary.