Redtail Rise Passerby

Masque sensed two of their pack mates flanking them, though they neither slowed nor glanced sideways. The thief remained in their sights, the splash of red on his pale muzzle ripping another snarl from the Caru’s throat.

The stranger’s shift in posture might not have given other guardians pause, though Masquerade stood apart from many of the wolves of the rise, past and present. He seemed to realize his mistake and that tempered their anger some.

The yearling ground to a halt a yard from him, their own red muzzle wrinkled and their ears thrust forward. Their long tail prickled as it arched severely over their hips, demanding submission.

Apologize, Masque commanded, and maybe we'll let you live long enough to repay the food you’ve stolen from us.