Silver Creek with a long rush and patter of water

Wick was disappointed. She noticed finally, ignoring her raging instincts for a moment, that the hare was almost gone already. There was no point to this fight. What was left was perhaps a mouthful, not worth it. The beast spoke to her and she did not understand. She knew posturing and body language and growls. Not… awkward mouth-sounds from the maws of monsters. Monsters her mother had warned about. Monsters who shared her blood—though she did not know it. She looked between the hare and the wolf, eyes flicking up and down a few times, then she turned away. There was no point in staying. She had to find her own food. She kept her attention focused, behind her, however, ears turned back to listen for the sounds of any kind of attack—the crunch of leaves, the sound of heavy breath, footfalls. She would not be caught unawares.

Sorry! Wick doesn’t understand language (something I spontaneously decided right now LOL) and since Apple ate most of the hare already, there’s no point in her staying. She will exit unless stopped. Permission to attack her granted, but it would turn into a dice roll thing if so!