Barrow Fields Barracuda

She was not the least bit perturbed that the law of survival of the fittest had come into play with one now dead and one now fed. It was the way of the wild, and she accepted it without question. For now, the tension drew out of her muscles, her efforts to calm herself successful, and she stood calmly before him. Panic had its place in speeding paws out of harms way, but she also knew that it needed to be managed less a foolish mind be the one to make possibly important decisions.

"Rionach," she answered him, shifting her stance to lean more on the left paw than the other. Her full name she would not speak to anyone except close companions and packmates that had proven themselves. He was neither. "Yours?" She would know him by scent, and by the pattern of his coat and cut of his build more than by his name, but wolf culture had evolved to include names and she did not shun them entirely.