The Bracken Woods Apathy

He took longer to finish than the black queen, but so had he gone longer without eating. Though the wolf didn't typically gorge himself, for practical reasons, he ate until the churn of his belly was uncomfortable and was forced to pull himself back, his hungerlust finally sated. He licked his gory chops, swallowing the last bit of blood and sinew he would allow himself for the time. Her words elicited the memories of how synchronized they had been, and the meal they had shared in relative ease; as equals on neutral ground. He heard the implication in her tone, though Warbone hardly doubted the young female was the claimer of those scents carried on her guard hairs. Those many wolves mingling like perfume on her back belonged to her— She did not belong to them.

"You would have me kneel," Warbone said slowly, his expression unreadable beneath the drab red staining his face. This, he thought, reflected on how alike they were. He did not expect a she-wolf like her to bow to anyone. How could she, of a wolf like him? He felt disrespected, if only in slight, but despite what his appearance suggested, he was not a creature governed by hairtrigger emotion.