Spotted Eagle Mountain What you know about rocking a wolf on your noggin?

As it turned out, Wylla wasn't great at multitasking. She was so focused on scarfing down tough old scraps of meat from the deer that she didn't hear the subtle brush of paw pads over the ground or the click of a nail on exposed stone. She was blind to Rheia's presence entirely until the other female spoke, which sent the lone wolf's back up like a cat's. She awkwardly turned while remaining half-hunched over the carcass and ultimately stuck Rheia with a sharp stare that said back your truck up this shit's MINE, all while sucking another scrap of flesh into her mouth.

Yeah, it really was shit, wasn't it? It even tasted like dust, it was so old, but she was too hungry to be a diva about that.

"What do you want?" the loner wondered through another mouthful of gross, chewing obnoxiously while attempting to fit her small body over the entirety of the deer's. Rheia certainly didn't seem like the type of wolf to dart in and steal some meat—and honestly Wylla, was it such a big deal if she did that?—but she wasn't playing any games. Having been turned away from the Caldera pack and having no idea where she might find the next one, she had to shovel every last bit of food into her maw, even if it meant being a total jerk to someone else. She was impish, sure, and not exactly honest, but she didn't always want to be a rude wolf. Heck, she even felt bad about it sometimes. But maybe not this time.