Whitefish River i'll be your light, your match, your burning sun

The water was refreshing – and it offered him perspective. His tongue slid across his lips with satisfaction, and just as the fiery wolf was about to make his way to shore, another came upon him. He regarded her without an attempt to mitigate his stare, noting the fresh wounds upon her figure.

What suspicions he held were only confirmed when her scent came to him in that moment. The foolish girl was brazen – of that he was certain. Having come upon Tonravik in a small lake, washing away the blood of battle, he had been informed by one of his pack mates to check over the scuffle site.. to take in the scent of the offender who had bled upon their grounds.

And now she was before him, eyeing him with a wariness that only further solidified her guilt. Ivitaruk could have feigned uncertainty then – perhaps goaded her closer.. and either attempted to gain information from her.. or even inflicted her impending death upon her. But he did not take her a creature for pure stupidity, despite the lack of distance between them. “Come here, little snapdragon,” he crooned quietly, his large form now shifting toward her as his paws pulled himself fully from the waters. “Your days are numbered.”