Blackfeather Woods Hand over your riches

Skalda had been eating a frail deer. It was already succumbing to sickness, and had broken a leg in it's attempt to escape the red priestess. 

And so she took it down and dispatched it with ease.
She would save the heart for her gods and eat the rest.

At least that was her plan. But a young voice commanded something different.

Skalda's gaze darted sharply to Makatza with obvious disapproval. 
This child had zero manners. And zero fear. The fearlessness was cute, almost admirable. But the obvious superiority complex would get the little girl killed if she wasn't careful.

Maybe she could be forced to learn some manners.

The crimson herald let out a booming growl of warning on this thought, locking eyes with the child in a growing display of dominance as she rose to her full, massive height, with a tail arced high. 

Submit. Her posture commanded with iron firmness.
Skalda's next moves would not be so kind.