Razorback Ridge arsonist's lullabye

It doesn’t take long for another to arrive, and he observes her amusedly, nodding back his own greeting. The brief consideration of conversation is one he isn’t particularly fond of, he doesn’t like idle conversation and finds it tedious. But the opportunity to gather some entertainment by it is not one he is opposed to, and he drops the leg, the gleam of bloodstained teeth flashing beneath his jowls. “If you come too close I might eat you too,” He jokes, of course, but it’s not like he wears the right facial expression to go long with the humour. In fact, his muzzle is coated with the blood of the animal that helps add to the whole psycho-killer look, though his eyes don’t hold the crazed madness within them that would trigger a warning alarm to the other.

He tosses the leg just under half the distance between them, taunting her with both the delicious reward and the possible unfortunate truth in his jest. Perhaps she would take it, perhaps not. He has encountered both types of wolves on the borders of Blackfeather Woods, and he finds there is not a set character to who flees and who decides to take the chance. Maybe he is undecided himself, and has not figured out whether or not he will abandon the leg in exchange for a bigger prize. It is all circumstantial, and he ponders these things as he waits to see what she will do.