Blackfoot Forest (m) love and death

It was the screech that shook Raven from her dreams. And that screech was laced with a sound all animals instinctively dreaded : Death.
One day, the cold hand would clasp upon her, and there was no escaping her fate.
Only the calm thought of it being nowhere near due to her youth, reassured her. Hopefully, her conscious unhelpfully added.

The obsidian hellion arose to her fours, noticing her strength was unebbed by pain. Thanks to her leaders insist on surviving with no sympathy, she was able to handle more than what she had, previously. The ebony knew he wouldn't accept her gratitude through words, but only through paid actions, would she be forgiven. That would be her goal, until she earned the trust she desired from him. And earn it, she would.

Raven remembered the screech, and again, it resounded in her head, the pain of the animals cry lodged into her skull. Where had it come from? And from who? It sounded to be a small mammal, ..either that, or a young wolf.
That shook her a bit to her core. Though Syver had prepared her a bit physically, her emotions were still her own.
So with unprepared resolve, the dark femmora left the little makeshift temporary den she had made, and went north east, where she had felt she had heard the reminents of the cry.

Scanning with her silverized blue irises, Raven noticed a smell that had beckoned her to investigate. Blood. With a quick prayer to Azarartha, she continued her trek closer, until she came upon a sight. A dark wolf, by scent, a male, and one who was thoroughly enjoying a freshly murdered fox. No doubt, by his paws.

She wasn't too close to him or his feast, so she shuffled her paws a bit to not startle the blackened brute. She decided she did not have any intention to fight, and she had no chance of winning, because his stature seemed more so to outweigh hers.

Hesitation clearly evident in her voice, she called out to him,
"Hello.."