Big Salmon Lake [M] teeth of terror sinking in

Tonravik moved from home back to the Lake she and her mate had come to, so that she could find if the herd of Mule Deer was still about. Last time, that very herd had moved in the direction of the Caldera. Perhaps they had come back. The woman followed her nose, and soon the scent of blood, coppery and strong, filled the air. Her head turned in the direction the scent came from before she moved toward it. 

This day would be one of the last she would leave her home. Tonravik understood there was something changing in her. It was this that brought on her desire to corral the herd and send it in her packs direction. To get any and all food sources she knew of to she and hers. The leader moved in the direction of the scent, following it. When the scent was found, the leader noted the wolf upon it tearing into its throat until it stilled. 

The woman moved purposefully in that direction, the scent of blood enough to cause her once nonexistent hunger to flare within her. Her strides were long, and the authoritative air to them suggested he step aside. There was no question as to who would win this fight if there was to be one. While his figure suggested there was much power to it, he looked tired, and his scent told her that he had been alone for a long while. She could see, perfectly, the toils of being a lone wolf in him.

And in her, he would see the opposite. The bear of a wolf was large, strong, and healthy. Truly a prime example of the best possible outcome of their species, despite the monstrous and masculine look to her. For everything she held physically, she lacked mentally; but she never had needed smarts. It was her power, her instinct, that got her to where she was now.