Big Salmon Lake The devil in wolves fur

He shrugs, a lopsided, easy smile laid across his muzzle as he looks back to her. “Something feels different.” He says vaguely, furrowing his brows.

He nods, agreeing with her last statement. Then his eyes dart to her own chocolate hues then back down to the coyote. “May I, cariña?” He asks deeply, but politely, referencing her permission to feast from her kill. Knowing all too well not to get in between a woman and her food.