Wapun Meadow rosewater & bloodstains

Aventus endured the buffeting wings against his face with his ears twisted back while he pinned the unfortunate creature to the ground with one ink-black paw. It took only a second for him to readjust his grip and drive his muzzle down to grasp the crow's head, which he tore off with several tugs and one vicious shake.

He flung the head and watched, satisfied, as crimson arced across the snow to mark its trajectory. That was when he spotted their spectator: a scrawny, lonesome coyote picking its way across the field, drawn initially by the scavenging crows, and then by the scent of blood on the wind.

Father, Aventus said in a hushed tone, eyes and ears both trained with deadly intent on the smaller canine.