Sheepeater Cliff The dark of summer

She appeared to be very fond of the area as a whole and not just the piece of land she and her Alpha had claimed for themselves. Teklar had not kept track of how long he'd been traveling, not in months anyway, but he did recall leaving the family pack before the last snowfall had melted. Sven was an fearsome animal and an aggressive protector, traits he had passed on to his offspring, and the eldest son did not care to conflict with his father once the newest litter arrived. Setting out on his own seemed to be the only logical choice.

At the mention of food, deep amber eyes gleamed with a savagery he could not contain. His hunger was consuming. As a lone-wolf, providing for himself had been difficult and although he occasionally managed to snag a small meal, to feel his stomach gorged on the meat of a successful pack hunt had become something of a dream. Teklar's mouth salivated, but he maintained his presentation with a sweep of his tongue along the dark line of his lips.

"Your land sounds promising," the male complimented lightly, habitually checking his surroundings once more. "Are you not concerned that if your pack grows too large the deer will push off to find a residence less populated by predators? I can't imaging they would be too impressed with a sudden influx of hunters..." His eyes danced across her facial features as he spoke, genuinely interested in her nonverbal responses -- sometimes more was said without words. "Tracking, fighting, killing; these are the qualities I have been perfecting since birth. My father would have it no other way." His mother, however, had taught him the patience and diplomacy he would need for moments like these.