Wapun Meadow Down the rabbit hole

Timing had been ideal in the catching of the hare. Kavos had simply been near when the female had lost her chance to close her jaws around the creature, and he had found that his own predatory fangs had made purchase in the tender flesh of the prey animal. How fortunate that he would have found himself there in that precise moment, unaware of her misfortune as well as profiting from it. Had the young ghost been anywhere else, the rabbit would have fled to a warren underneath the comfort of the earth and lived to fight another day.
 
The pale coat around his muzzle was stained red after he had secured the catch. The brute had lurched forward and driven his fangs as deeply as he could until he had felt the fragile frame of the small creature crack beneath the pressure. Satisfactory and small, the meal would allow him to continue trekking for a while longer; he could search for signs of his missing siblings without feeling the ache within the pit of his stomach.
 
The scent of the female reached him and Kavos drew his crown in her direction.
 
The plan had not been to come in contact with strange folk. She carried the aroma of a pack on her silvery coat. He could tell that from where he stood with little issue. The molten burning of his stare followed her disappointed body language. The scent of fresh blood would certainly give him away; he had, after all, stolen the very catch she had worked to obtain. Kavos cared so little. It was not he who had decided her fate. He had merely benefited from her miscalculation.