Hideaway Strath in death's shadow

The smell of a fresh kill made her mouth salivate as her eyes fluttered open with an intense hunger. Pain evaporated once her hunger drive kicked into full gear, jaw wide open ready to devour. Yet she hesitated. In her youth she would always roll her eyes whenever forced to say blessings she thought had no purpose, a string of words that seemed meaningless, seemed performative. But her hesitation now made her question if she truly was ignorant towards the traditions or just had no respect for her parents leadership of the pack.

"Nimitstlatlaz ne tequihua."

Mictec words normally sharp or not spoken at all, came delicate, like a breeze not strong enough to blow the seeds off a dandelion. She felt a small sense of pride that manifested in a small smile as she looked up at him.

"Gracias."

That first bite, the rich flavor of blood that was not her own flooded her body, carnal and intoxicating that a soft moan came out of her unexpectedly. She was halfway through the delicacy, when she stopped and looked at him and ask the question that had been brewing in her mind, one that she noted the more time she was near him, detecting the faint scents of others on his fur.

"Why help me? Besides knowing my name, I'm a stranger in your territory as your scent implies you are or rather were part of a pack."