Barrow Fields and drawing lines around my body to recall my place

For a split few moments Donovan notices the others amethyst hues on him. The look of What are you doing? Could be found there. Or at least that’s what he thought was going through their head. Still he doesn’t mind the mildly concerned face that looks back to him, rather it encourages the brindle male.

Eventually it seems like they’ve realized what Donovan is poking at and the fleeting wag of the wolf-dog’s curled tail almost makes his own swipe fitfully at his hips as well. A smirk appears on his maw, or as much as it could while he chews and pulls on the deceased animals leg. 
As they mirror his own readied stance Donovan gets ready to pull. Yet, they beat him to it. They growl as they pull back against Donovan’s grip and he can’t help but do the same. Throwing himself into another vicious shake as claws dig into the grass and dirt to attempt and skirt back against the others impressive strength.

Only a few seconds later, Donovan crunches his jaws down one last time and as he finds himself pulling, the leg separates itself from the rest of its body. Taking a few steps back he viciously shakes one more time and releases. The leg goes flying a solid few feet into the air about six feet away and the male chuckles darkly. He stands there panting, blackened tongue falling out of his maw, flat and dripping bloodied drool. 

He turns to meet the others gaze shamelessly. “That’s was fun.” He comments with a quick swipe of his tongue on his whiskers and teeth.