Wapun Meadow dripping in rot

stark > gjalla > blackfell > marina > zephyra > cole > ancelin

teeth gleamed as fragrances struck the cold wind, and ancelin realized he didn't know half of them. his entry onto the scene was forceful and fierce, a man still stippled in sticky coyote blood. tail lashed the snowy atmosphere and he bulled ahead of cole and zephyra.
the meadow was his, and bearclaw ruled here. whatever happened would be their decision, and his bannering plume commanded that.
"you and you," he said of the strangers intent on this bleeding man, whom ancelin did not move to help, "who are you? back off," and his teeth glinted beneath black lips.
the small woman and the wounded stranger were glared at next; he didn't look long for this world and she seemed to know him. ancelin didn't care about anyone's backstory, simply the right of bearclaw to dominate their land. "someone start talking."