King Elk Forest the pariah

On the islands where he had been born, a show of bravery like the one this pale female was demonstrating would have been applauded by his pack. Her eyes locked with his, and he could not help but to allow a disgusting grin to crease his dark muzzle. This blue-gazed stranger was not from Warsaw, though. She did not know that Skellige had been born and bred with the intent to fight. He had ravaged larger wolves than her. And with the famine that plagued the lands they walked on, she would make a decent meal to tide him to the coast. The inky savage had no qualms with living from her meat. It was a hunt or be hunted world.
 
Lowering his skull so that his muzzle sat just six inches from the ground, the swarthy beast held his ground. She had no authority over his person. The fur along his neck and shoulders stood wildly on end. He flicked his flush-colored tongue across his lips. The interest that he had held for his present company had since vanished. She was merely an aberration. So long as she did not stand before him to block him from his path, she was unconsequential. 
 
"Keep to yourself, cur," he snapped to the pale woman.