Blackfoot Forest blood & iron

That he was willing to join her pleased her doubly; it was a difficult thing to do, that, but the season made her all the more susceptible to it. Her tail waved as she plunged ahead toward where the creatures yowled. There was a certain point in which she became quieter, and slipping neatly into the role of hunter that she had was a natural thing. Smaller game was not her forte; she was built for the takedown. The grabbing of the throat, or muzzle, and the strangulation with her vice-like grip and her heavy weight.

This would take more than one; she was not fleet-footed or swift. She was a veritable wrecking ball. Like him, she was a crocodile of a wolf that lie in wait to flush out her prey. Ikkalrok slowed further, moving just so that he could come up alongside her and see what she did. A pack of vermin just ahead, and she encouraged him to show her his prowess, her thick, leathery nose moving to press against his shoulder as her cool eyes observed him. She would follow him into the dark shadows ahead, but let him continue what she would start. What they might never end.