Serpent Lake my spirit rises off the plate

Speaking of sins, a pale wraith slipped out of the borders of her pack. She had not bothered to wipe the blood of the last she had fought from her muzzle, the dark red stain marring her silvery fur. Being a vain creature, she lopped toward the river she frequented often. It was quite the distance from her home, but it was well worth the trip. 

She arrived, a pale shadow, when the sun was beginning it's fall. Her paws hit the ground soundlessly, her steel orbs seeking out the red form in the distance. A coyote, it almost seemed to be, but once she approached she saw that it was truly a wolf, albeit a sharp and lanky one. It seemed to be stalking toward something, and so the silver femme stopped a short distance away, in clear sight of the man but not approaching him immideitly. Perhaps he could catch her dinner for her. Her tongue flicked briefly to the side of her maw, touching the dried blood that resided there.