Big Salmon Lake The devil in wolves fur

Santi internally sighs when she doesn’t rip his throat out just because he asked her if she was in a bad mood. That’s always a dangerous question to ask a woman. Then he watches her as she offers a round two to their earlier duel.

A smirk begins creeping up over his maw. “Que lindo.” He comments. “A game of chase?” Face lightening up, determined to catch her.

Backing up from the bones and gore, he lowers his head and stalks around her. “Go ahead, cariña,” A theatrical pause as he eyes her down. “run.” His accent rolls out deeply.