Wapun Meadow running home, running home

He was quick. Always. For it was the scent of Rala that spread through the glade, escaping from their sanctuary that he coveted like bullets to a barrel.
When he found her on the outlook, taught with the strength to fire, he saw what she honed. A buck. Does she think she could take it alone? Even he, a beast, would need a partner to ensure such a bounty. From behind her white figure, he grunted low, baritone.
An easy kill, he breathed, coming to brush his darkened shoulder with her own. He stood much taller than her, muscled, worn.
For the two of us.