Wapun Meadow Down the rabbit hole

The wolf who had failed their catch was something of a talker. Kavos was not fond of those who spoke too often and far too quickly. The predator regarded her with a cool flickering of his brumal stare. The catch he had demonstrated had not been one of great skill or calculation, so he did not accept her praise. It did little to his ego to receive kind words from strangers. The savage young wolf thought to turn and depart, but his attention was stolen by the startling red shape of another. This too was female, he noted. She seemed wary in her approach, tipping her muzzle toward him with emerald eyes that danced along his frame.
 
The other female spoke again, creating some form of joke about her failures. Kavos sneered at her; it was not his place to remark on her poor hunting skills. The brute had won the prize, and he was not interested to know what else she might have to say in regard to the fumbling of her meal. The savage young creature was not intent on sharing his catch, either. With a flick of his tail and a low bow of his skull toward the red watcher, Kavos turned and left the scene. The rabbit dangled from the pricks of his sharp fangs.