Firefly Ravine you are wicked, and you are cruel

The wolverine was still smacking his jaws when he heard the wolf call out. Hawthorne knew that not many wolverines traveled south, or this far south at least. Hawthorne was eager to explore how far south he could get before he missed the snows too much. Hence why it wasn't a surprise for him that the wolf didn't know him. His nostrils flared as he took in his scent. Wolfish, no surprise there. He had scented it here far more often. The glutton licked his jaws clean, showing off his sharp teeth and angled k9's for tearing through frozen carcasses.  

However, even though Hawthorne was pretty sure he could take this wolf, he knew that a wolf pack was another ordeal to mess with. Not that he was afraid, never! He would attack if this wolf youngster was out for his meal. "My meals!,' he snarled and jumped forward with his fur all poofed up and teeth bared a bit. He wanted to test the reaction of the other. The wolverine carried a musky smell, being part of the weasel family he had strong scent glands to mark what he sees as his property. Hawthorne had the courage of a lion. There could be a whole pack behind the youngster but he couldn't smell them so he was comforted by that at least.

"I'm Hawthorne the Wolverine," he stated. "And these are my amphibians to eat!" After all, these frogs were an easy meal for him, far easier than to run after something big like a deer or moose. If Hawthorne was certain this wolf wasn't getting in the way of his food he might be more mellow.