Bearclaw Valley hunters

he is satisifed with his work now and raises his head, a pink tongue coming fast to swipe blood from his muzzle. it is disgusting, the taste of their foul ichor, but it is satisfying all the same. from ameline. a gruff reply as he hoists his own head down to pick up one of the decapitated coyote heads.

blood pools in his chest fur from the gaping wound. with a jerk of his head, he knows cole will be at his side. they move through the valley now, towards the borders where tvar had been working to set up defenses. over a hill of thicket and they arrived, trudging up the rocky mountains that sealed the bearclaw within.

a spike before him and he reaches to shove the head upon it. teeth knotted in greasy fur, ears twisting at the sound of flesh squelching as the spike pierces the torn throat.