Shadewood His hair's on fire and his heart is burning

Wintery glacials turned to the dark warrior, his response smooth. "It was well earned. Well deserved. And well remembered."

Cry began grooming himself, attention being precisioned to keeping the scent of blood from him, so he wouldn't be considered a target for a next meal. Or even annoying buzzards.
The sun threatened his time for pleasantries, a darkened hue to the dress if the heavens, shards of dusk throwing scarlets and crimson mixed oranges high above the two males. Upon finishing the top half of his shoulder, Cry shook his pelt free of settled grit and murmured softly to the coal tinged mass of wolf.

"We'll keep in touch."

And with that, he walked forward and pulled free a left haunch of shoulder from the fallen fawn, then turned to disappear back into the unknown, his intention to leave the loner with the hefty remains with the lupine who needed them more.