Sly Fox Sand Dunes spike

yoink

Thiago's ears twitched at the distant sound of meat hitting sand, a dull, wet thump carried by the wind over the dunes. He paused, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air, catching the metallic tang of blood mixed with the salt of the shifting dunes. He knew that smell well — fresh, raw, and carried with intent.

A low growl rumbled in his throat as he crouched lower behind the thin scrubs, his yellowed eyes narrowing to slits. He saw the tall, rangy figure of Zoug standing against the deepening twilight, silhouetted by the dying light. His fur prickled along his spine. Thiago's ears pinned back, his tail tucked slightly under him, but his gaze remained fixed on the foreign wolf.

¿Qué busca aquí? he muttered to himself, the words low and breathy. He knew these lands, knew their secrets and their shadows, but this visitor was different — larger, with a hunger in his stance that Thiago could recognize. His heart pounded, fear mingling with the urge to know. He crept closer, his belly brushing the sand, moving with the silence of a ghost.