Redhawk Caldera The front lines - the edge of death

It was the smell of fresh blood that made her slow to a stop, but the underlying scent of a wolf was what prompted Towhee to pivot quite suddenly and break into a gallop back toward the stretch of border she had already swept. A black figure appeared in the distance and the guardian's throat rumbled with the beginnings of a growl as she closed in on the unwanted caller. Her sharp eyes picked up details—the stranger's vivid gaze, the dead hare at her feet—before she screeched to a halt in front of the unfamiliar wolf, putting herself between her and the pack's territory.

"What do you want?" Towhee demanded in her slightly distorted cadence, her voice brusque but otherwise toneless. Her orange eyes bored into the other young she-wolf, her ears pressing forward aggressively and her tail lashing a few times before arching above her hips.