Redhawk Caldera jaguar

A worthy hunter indeed. Fox devoured the otter in a matter of ten minutes or so, and stepped back from what remained of the carcass. Tufts of fur, a few of the larger bones, and a pool of blood was all that was left. She felt, for the first time since Peregrine's death, a brief sense of contentment. It lasted a few glorious seconds, and then it was gone. Fox heard his whine shortly after, and her eyes refocused on him.

He looked nothing like Peregrine. His coat was lighter, his eyes duller, his frame slighter, and his demeanor less jovial. That didn't make him less of a fit for a place by her side, but it did make him incredibly different than Peregrine. Fox took a few steps forward. She wasn't crowding him, but she did not intend to let the distance between them remain great. Her maw was still covered in the remains of the otter, as well as her chest and feet, but she did not care. Her single good eye (and her half-good one) scrutinized him again.

Then, another step forward. She sniffed his ear, which was warm on her cold, wet nose.