Falls of the Hinterlands I could fight this 'til the end but maybe I don't wanna win

the isle was fine enough, but colt was hardly built to stay there day in and day out. taking himself off with some pretense at hunting, he'd murmured to @Sadey that he was going to look for marston and lonesome, back where they'd first come into the hinterlands.
he'd be gone a day and some change; elated, briggs headed off at a trot, heaving a sigh as the packland faded behind him. he weren't no settler. the wild places and wild air did him well.
rustling up a meal of quail to start, colt rested and then began to track a couple of elk across the plateau.
but they veered into the bog, and so he snorted, passing through the copse. this close to the mountainline, he could smell the goats.
it was with ease he climbed into the narrow crags, and it was with alacrity that colt attended the scent of blood. wolf'sblood, to be exact, mingled twice with the smell of freshkill.
he saw her then, the spitfire blonde, scuffed up a little and dragging a goat behind her. 
had it been anyone else, colt might have seen about helping himself. were it another time, and he unattached to a pack, he would have taken it anyway.
but they both smelled of many wolves now, a fact he disliked. and so briggs only flicked his tail and drawled her way, "yew bleed enough fer that?"