Hushed Willows there's a syncopated beat

The coywolf's sail-like ears were ever on the move. One twisted toward the sound of a yawn as he skirted the territory of another of Reverie's followers, but the rest of him did not acknowledge her until she addressed him directly.

He paused, turning his dark blue gaze on the wolf. Like her, his knowledge of the woman was limited to her name — Reina — and to some vague notion of her place within the pack's hierarchy. She was close to Reverie, but she was not blood. That made them equals in his mind. This was not his preference.

Dusty Rose lifted a paw to scrap at his muzzle, releasing the bird from his jaws only to pin it just as swiftly to the dirt. He licked blood from his lips; it would clearly never fly again, but it still struggled weakly to escape.

"It ain't gonna be much fun for them if it don't have any rabbit left in it," he replied, still taking in the sleep-mussed state of her, and the lofty amusement writ across her face. "Kids need somethin' with a lil bit of kick, y'know?"

He had fond memories of live prey being dropped in front of him and his siblings. There was still a scar on Laredo's face from a resultant scuffle.