Swiftcurrent Creek battleaxe

The pheasant hung lightly in his jaws -- a meagre pick, and yet the taste of the blood alighted his nerves with the anticipation of the meal to come.. and the adrenaline that still coursed through his body from the chase. The shadowed sky above gave indication a storm was on the way -- perhaps just rain, and yet he made no means to seek shelter. Despite the time he had spent here, Scimitar had yet to claim a den for himself.. what was the point in settling down when the potential of his life being uprooted once more was a delicate possibility.

Dropping his prey to the grass, he bent his muzzle, nosing at the bird. His teeth began to tear away feathers, a low rumble of satisfaction erupting from him as his large figure lowered to the ground in a leisurely stretch. Yet with the wayward wind came the scent of another -- blinking, the beast glanced upward, his bright eyes falling upon the pleasing vision of Bazi as she neared him.. seemingly looking for something.

Grunting with the possibility he was about to lose his meal to a wolf higher in the food chain than him, the cinnamon wolf made no move to protect it.. instead, he uttered a low bark to her, announcing his presence if only to satisfy his curiosity to her wandering.