Redtail Rise Passerby

They came at once, with the blood on the wind now luring them like hungry sharks. The first one hesitated and so did he, slowing his gait, keeping his head level with his shoulders and his tail stagnant behind. No piece of his body displayed a challenge. Mesa licked his lips - and by the time his tongue returned to his mouth, another arrived at a run.

His ears continued to pivot and catch upon the two, keeping tabs on both of them, staying wary for danger; a third, then, sweeping wide of his position but closing in at an arc. They all were trained upon him with their attentions.

He took a gamble and looked back to where the weasel's maimed, meatless body lay upon the edge of their claim, and realized he might have stepped too close. With a chuff, Mesa moved to withdraw several paces. The end of his tail waved with indecision, attempting to convey across the distance that no harm was meant; he did not turn his back to any of them again.