Blacktail Deer Plateau the witching hour

As expected, Lasher was quick to take down their quarry after Finley had left the race. A growl of pleasure rumbled free from her chest at the sight, and she gave the interfering ewe a haughty flash of her teeth before going to join the lanky male. She winced slightly as she walked, but shook her head to let him know it was nothing. She was pretty confident this would lead to one hell of a bruise and that her ribs would be aching for a few days, but that was nothing new. The feisty Blackthorn had suffered plenty worse.

"You want heart or liver?" Fin asked as she licked her lips. She had no problem with Lasher choosing his share first. This wasn't a rank battle, and no matter where they were on the totem pole, in her mind they were on equal footing. Besides, he was the one who'd made the kill and so it was only right that he enjoy that first bite of victory.