Stone Circle the devil in hell’s kitchen

There is an unbridled flare of jealousy in Wardruna’s chest as he watches Mur take down the hen with little to no trouble. His lip curls back for a second and his nostrils flare in a low, near inaudible snort but the northerner works to mask it quickly before the other male can see. His expression is neutral but he doubts the other male is paying him enough attention. Wardruna follows from behind, as per his choice as Mur moves too comfortably towards his and Noma’s den and the northerner wonders how clear he will have to make the boundaries of their den. Noma was his woman and he definitely did not like the idea of other males coming around. The territoriality is only natural to Wardruna: and he will not make moves to mask it if he thinks asserting it is necessary. How would Mur feel, Wardruna wonders, if he had a woman and the northerner was all confident and intrusive in their life? Probably not all that well, if the northerner had to guess ( but he can’t say for sure, of course ).

Wardruna’s prowl is slow and near predatory as he approaches the scene, his gaze going to Noma as she eats from the belly of the hen before it slides to Mur. It was meant to be him that provided for her and his nostrils flare once more but he must play the sheep once more. He is grateful — however reluctantly — that Mur has brought Noma fresh meat. It will do her good to have something warm and fresh in her belly but Wardruna wishes to communicate that this isn’t going to be a regular thing. He will learn to hunt again with his single eye, and he will efficiently take care of his thrall. “Thank you,” The words are a bit forced from the northerner’s lips the gratitude and ugly envy at war within him. Wardruna’s mouth waters at the smell but he ignores the rumble of his own stomach. He will take from the cache once Mur goes about his own business.

Wardruna does not know a polite way to say now leave in either of his languages and he frowns but ultimately says it in subtle posturing. “Perhaps Noma would like to eat in peace?” Wardruna subtly suggests and gestures in the direction of the nearby cache with his muzzle. He is too hungry and if Mur wants proof that the hen will all go to Noma Wardruna pads to the cache, chooses something that is half frozen but as fresh as it’s going to get for him and begins to gnaw at the toughened meat, placing it between his paws when he lowers into a sphinx-like position, fixing the other male in a haunting stare, not sure if he’s hoping to get across: You are free to take your leave or if he’s attempting to unnerve him into leaving. Whichever works, Wardruna supposes.