Ravensblood Forest and i could see for miles

The scent of another wolf was difficult to pick up through the thick aroma of blood that lingered in the air. His nose was buried deep in the sinew and broken body of the rabbit, held down by his thick paws while he pulled against its tender limbs, making it easier to swallow. He was occupied with his current meal to the point that when he finally noticed the female getting closer, it startled him to the point of acting out. The fur along his neck and shoulders rose threateningly, and he drew his muzzle upwards to peer at her with a curious anger in his bright orange gaze. This female was not a large creature; she could easily have been a mixed breed, but that wasn’t what concerned Kierkegaard the most. Her movements were fast. She seemed to dart from her cover in the brush with quick paws, aimed for his recently captured meal. A guttural growl seemed to echo in his chest before it emerged from his gaping mouth. She had landed success in grabbing what was left of his catch in her muzzle and turned to leave him. A moment late, he darted his downwards just inches from where hers had been, and he snapped his jaws together in a wild attempt to latch onto her. The life of a lone wolf meant that each meal was precious, and he could not afford to let this wandering wolf walk away with what he had earned. Kierkegaard prowled forward, the fur along his neck and spine going rigid. Parting his lips, he allowed a threatening rumble of a growl to slip past his bared fangs. The ashen male was not one for warnings, and his patience was all but wasted. If anything, she had two seconds to release his catch before he attempted to make a meal out of her as well. Kierke darted in her direction, his adrenaline carrying much further than he had anticipated, and he aimed to draw his fangs across her haunch.