Hushed Willows cause he can't compete with a man like me

sivaak’s pace slowed as she crested the rise, her crimson eyes narrowing against the faint light that broke through the fog. the silhouettes of the caribou ahead stirred something primal within her—hunger, instinct, the thrill of the hunt. her breath curled in the cold air as she came to a halt beside sobeille, her massive frame lowering slightly as she crouched to observe the herd.

you find them, she growled low, her voice rough but tinged with satisfaction. her gaze didn’t waver from the distant shapes, watching the way they moved, how the fog seemed to cling to them like a shroud. now, you watch. you wait. you choose.

her tail flicked once, slow and deliberate, as she leaned closer to the smaller wolf, her voice dropping into a near whisper. look for weak one. slow one. caribou does not care for its weak. neither should we.