Dawn Treader Valley Það svíður mig í augun

Her left ear caught the stranger's presence before her nose did, flooded as it was with the strong smells of blood and venison. Silvern eyes eventually fell on the third party: tall and umber and reeking of the blood of coyotes. With her query being so weak, she sparred the moment to regard them. Saw the wagging tail and the slack jaw.

No words were made—nor any body language that intended to push the stranger away. A sizeable meal was imminent. Not even the two of them together could devour the whole thing.

The huntress' attention returned to the miserable elk. She charged to savage its flank.