Northstar Vale houndmouth

Unbeknownst to her, a beast of a male approached. Her teeth worked on a bit of exposed bone until it cracked under her expert ministrations and her tongue greedily sought nourishing marrow within. She shattered the femur with a soft snap—echoed only by the rustle of the undergrowth as it gave way to the shadow that materialized on the fringes of her feast. Her skin prickled; hackles rose and fell as the electrifying thrill of anticipation raced through her. 

The rabbit was cast to the earth at her feet when she rose, stiff-legged, and met the wolf with a piercing stare. She hovered over her catch with her head hung neutrally level with her spine—tail cricked in a lazy curve against her hindquarters. He was rugged, rough-hewn, and handsome with a lordly bearing. There was a fleeting moment that she felt endeared to him as kin for she, too, was born of all things Wild and Untamed. Barring the queerly disfigured eye he was, above all, capable. 

But she would not be cowed into submission. Solveig offered him nothing but a rumble of displeasure and a drop of blood splattered onto the soil between her paws.