The Sentinels Through the dark

Tzila had many reasons to dislike winter. It was her least favorite season. Everything seemed to fall apart, or fortunes took a turn for the worse. At least, according to her experiences. In her darker days she might have considered peeling the flesh from another wolf. But now this was different. This one had been someone she almost knew. They weren't just a lifeless pile of meat, in her eyes.

The smaller shape of a low crouching creature, easily recognizable as a wolf but with significant traces of coyote lineage got her attention. She snapped her dark head his way, the scarlet fur of her nape a sharp contrast, peeking through the snow dust. She tensed on instinct, debating on an attack in case he truly was like his full-blooded coyote relatives. But he seemed to be more tactful than them as he addressed her. 

The question he posed made her twitch inside, as she glanced again to Umbra's carcass. Food was growing more and more scarce, but the prospect of dining on the flesh of her kin didn't entirely settle well with her. She stepped away, further. "I think not. Wolf flesh isn't on my menu. Especially of one I've met before."