Arrow Lake good evening, clarice

The return snap of the young beast closed on air; Lecter managed to jerk backward in anticipation, and his sides heaved, icewater eyes baleful as the boy spat out his foolish words and raced away. Swallowing what blood remained between his lips, the madman sank to his haunches, seeking to catch his breath before he too, made his way toward home. It would not bode well for the wounded, aged male to remain where he had skirmished with a packwolf; such a decision would be stupid, and more than likely fatal, as well.

He departed, only the disturbed dust and a few tufts of bloody fur to mark where he had sought to press an insolent youth into submission.