Qeya River a story of its own,

The woman's reaction barely earns anything from Mesa. He's half distracted by the prospect of a meal and half trying not to piss himself, so, a little attitude from the smaller wolf doesn't phase him much.

He strides stiffly along, the coarse off-white of his ragged shoulder fur puffing up a bit. Before he can do much else beyond pushing the physical boundary, there comes the shiver across his withers again. Unable to stop himself now — as he'd filled his belly with water to stave off the worst of his hunger in recent hours — Mesa took one more step and felt a flood of warmth to his extremeties.

The urine streaked down his legs and puddled beneath his belly, where the arc of yellow sprayed heartily. He was too close to the carcass; it soon would be soaking in that same puddle, and he didn't appear to notice or care. The feeling of relief caused the rest of his posture to slacken immediately -- until he had an empty bladder, feeling much more comfortable.

The carcass now reeked, of course.