Grouse Thicket Lions in the wild

He expected the coyote to flee from him, especially with all the noise and movement as he crashed unceremoniously through the brush. Instead, the smaller canine stood its ground, baring its teeth and snarling a warning. None of this deterred Peregrine—rather, it gave him hope—but then he had the misfortune of picking up his victim's scent. This was no coyote; it was a she-wolf.

All the fight left him and he paused, entangled in the underbrush, staring almost dolefully at the stranger. She still seemed (understandably) pissed and like she would totally fight him if he kept up his attack. Peregrine shook his head and backed off a few steps. He felt guilty but, more than anything, he was disappointed. His stupid morals prevented him from trying to feed on his own kind and it was a pain in the ass.

"I thought you were a coyote," he said to her, knowing it wouldn't make a damn difference to her. He was about to make his exit then, when a thought struck him and he added, "Do you live somewhere around here?" He more or less expected her to tell him to kiss her ass, yet it was worth a try.