Blackfeather Woods Night of the Living Dead

So long had it been since his prey had last put up a fight, that the struggles of the coyote had awakened within him something wicked. It was not unusual for him to lose himself during a hunt, and tonight had not been any different. He’d kept silent, stalking and then attacking, holding nothing back. And when at last the lesser canine’s life had faded from its eyes, he’d regained his usual, calm composure and observed the blood as it flowed. There was a moment in which he’d considered using it to freshen up Damien’s mark, but had ultimately decided against doing so; there was no time to sit the male down and fix up a print that had yet to fully fade. With the idea disregarded, he’d picked the head up off of the ground and carried it along with him, trailing after his leader as they headed towards the grove.

When they had arrived, the head was placed with the rest of the offerings, but not near to the body whence it’d come. His gaze then traveled around the area, looking over each of the wolves that had gathered and offering them a silent greeting here and there, until he’d found himself looking at one male in particular: Lennox. The man was not known by him, and so he’d allowed himself to stare for a moment or two longer than necessary, expression unreadable. Deciding that he was too close to the Inuk’s wife, his lip twitched, but never had his teeth been revealed. Instead, Kove had approached his lover and offered a nudge to her cheek as way of greeting. Thereafter, he’d sat himself down beside her, careful to position himself partially between her and the stranger. Whilst he had never been the jealous type, the high of the hunt was still swirling around in the back of his mind, insisting that he guard what was his.