Kintla Flatlands A bit risqué.

Any sensible wolf might have killed the stranger right then and there. It was the natural thing to do, really, and for a moment, Atticus considered it. He was righteously pissed, for sure, and as the stranger hissed his submission to the fight, Atticus thought of how easy it'd be to fall on him as he crouched down the ground, grab the back of his head, and crush his skull. It would've been justified. But Atticus wasn't the murdering type. "Take your lunch and go," he said levelly, still willing to allow the intruder to keep his stolen prey. "Don't come back."