Little Goat Mountain Are we faded

"Hm, either or," he rumbled casually, getting to his feet in one heavy, slow-motion movement and circling the carcass so that he was opposite Wildfire. It was a minor strategy on his part because, for whatever reason, he didn't want to scare her away. He dug his half-dried face into the goat's spilled intestines, gnawing away a large portion to snack on as they chatted. He ate slower this time, choosing to be polite, maybe. 

Warbone eyed her in a speculative manner. "My mate was about your size. She used to set traps for larger prey," he said, reverting the subject. Hunting was something he could talk about. Packs, not so much. He had yet to find a suitable place to settle since the demise of Tall Timbers and that was because intimidated alphas always sought to put him in "his place" when it was largely unnecessary. "She was quite efficient at felling deer, even without my assistance."