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

sivaak sees the caribou lurch, its body straining as sobeille clamps down behind its foreleg. the younger wolf’s inexperience is evident, but the effort is not wasted—it slows the beast, its movements faltering under the weight of desperation and fear.

snow churns violently as sivaak barrels forward, her scarred form a blur of muscle and frost. her crimson eyes lock on the caribou’s throat, a predator’s precision guiding her path. she is upon it in moments, her jaws snapping with the power of a wolf born to the hunt.

teeth find their mark—a sickening crack of cartilage and bone fills the air as she latches onto the neck, wrenching the beast sideways. the caribou stumbles, its legs buckling.

all is said and done now. sivaak turns cold eyes to sobeille. good. she says, lapping blood from teeth and maw. you hold. i kill. next time, you kill.