Dragoncrest Cliffs these long cold days of grey

It doesn’t take long, or much more effort, for the coyote to finally fall still. Bobby gripped the creature’s neck and pulled, tearing flesh as one might in battle rather than a hunt. Ajatar slowly unlatches her jaw from the broken pelvis of the coyote, stretching out her muscles a little, and then snapping her teeth back together. Blood smeared her white muzzle and it oozed from her side, red staining her ribcage, a little flap opened up that gives her a little concern but not enough pain the moment to do something about it right away. For now, her attention is on the boy as she glances back, seeing the wound on his shoulder.

“You should pay more attention when you’re on the borders,” his her response, her feet firmly planted on the ground as the coyote lay dead at their feet. She lowers her head only briefly to sniff at the carcass, finding nothing particularly wrong other than a hungry, pre-winter starved coyote. “Where’s the nearest cache?” she asks, having debated whether or not to eat it now or save it for later, or someone else.

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