Blackfoot Forest I'm one of the damned

She was particularly bored today. Though she ha visited the meadows, she had avoided nearing the Creek wolves and their territory, not wishing to uproot old feelings. She knew she should be angry with Lecter, and by now should have dropped it, because it's been weeks now, but she still had a burning sensation in her stomach. The sensation of anger.

She should be angry with Lecter... But she was not. She was angry with Fox, and though she had had no contact with the Creek alpha since that first day, she still held resentment.

Through with her deeds for the day, the dark female traveled through he forested area, head in the clouds, when a sudden tang of prey's blood filled the air. Curious, the Silvertip toxicologist ventured close to the scent. She saw a black male, and by the scent, part of the Creek. She hid herself in the shadows, wondering whether to go forth and call out the problems in which the prey was killed. She felt the prey should've been honored with a less bloody death. And be honored by the strengths it had and thank it for sustaining the life of the predator. Without prey, the predator is nothing, and the great god Lupus should be thanked.

You couldn't spare it with a cleaner death?