The Sunspire the greater the love, the greater the loss.

Fig had no problem at all with letting the stranger be the one to make the kill. He had seen his role the moment the doe had leapt across his path, and he committed himself to it fully, not letting go of the beast's leg even as it writhed and fought against the pale wolf's killing blow. He let go only when he felt the doe's final shudder as the life fled from its body for good. He stood tall then, licked the blood from his lips, and let his gaze settled on his surprise hunting partner.

She was staring intently at him. There was something simultaneously challenging and inviting in her aspect, which he found to be simultaneously unsettling and intriguing. She stood over the kill as he did, but Fig commanded the instinct to protect the spoils of his hunt to settle. There was plenty to share, and he felt strangely eager to keep her around for a bit.

"Nice job on the attack," Fig commented, shifting his posture into one of wary neutrality, "Quick and clean."