The Wall Toome

Heart leaps into her throat as he looms, nearness overwhelming the senses, the whole of his massive frame blackening out the sky from her postrate position in the snow. His own growl, deeper, dominant, sends Ayovi into silence. A name is thrust to her ear. Faust.
As he pulls back her gaze darts to the maw still raised to show teeth. She looks away quickly, repulsed that he’d come so close and shivers into a gust of snowflakes sweeping past, deciding the man must not feel cold.
He denies lineage to the clan which has overrun Big Sky and decimated her pack. She makes a sound of disgust.
“I know your kind,” Ayovi flings the words at his back like curses, “and I know your tricks.”
In a move that dared to be bold, she snatches up a hank of flesh, tearing away the bone from still-warm muscle. Several paces takes her to the trunk of a spruce where she collapses in the tall snow and tongues her prize.
Only from this distance does she allow herself to see the face of the man who calls himself Faust. She looks into the sylvan stare with something like disgrace.
Ice woman. So be it. She has no intention of abandoning this place until the kill is picked clean.