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

still the blood pounded in her ears. sobeille's panting drew out in quick breaths, a plume of mist curling around her muzzle.

sivaak's blood-splattered face loomed close, instructing her to eat. having yet to discover a love for terrestrial meat's flavor, sobeille did so gingerly -- pulling strips of skin back and chewing as one does when examining a new taste.

finally, she ate her fill -- but there was still much remaining. flickering her gaze to the seasoned caribou killer, sobeille spoke. what do we do wit' de rest?

in sapphique, such bounty would be quartered and carried to caches all around their packlands. but here, they were itinerants -- and something in sobeille loathed the idea of providing a meal for strangers.