Dahozhoni Meadow arco

Hare-scent tempts her nose. The coy finds herself nodding with little thought, “I have to get home to Muat-riya.” Her voice is more wheeze than words as she eyes the kill.

No sooner had the woman grounded the hare than Eset seized it greedily within her jaws, forepaws gripping the carcass while incisors stripped fur and skin off muscle. She tore and gulped and when the meal was near over she squandered no part, tongue darting between bone to draw out yellowed marrow.

Long had Toula and her palaces kept the coy fed, she had forgotten how hunger transformed even the most civil of wolves.

“Thank you, Sontana,” she speaks at last, feeling warmed and full and turning her head to finally grant proper acknowledgment of the generous stranger. “I have eaten very little for weeks. I am Eset. Are you traveling alone as well?”