The Bracken Woods one

The woods are no longer still. One shadow emerged, and her eyes snap to him and follow his movement. Tikigâk lifts her head from her discovered meal and licks her chops, removing gristle from her muzzle as her tongue rolls over it. She is not discreet as she baldly assesses him, noting the way in which he moved with some measure of interest, looking for indicators that he meant trouble. He was wise enough to keep some distance between them. She sniffed at the wind, detecting no other but for him among their kind here now. 

Were she not satiated, she might have warned him away from the meat. But she had eaten her fill. This land was not her own, nor did she want for it to be. 

What might seem like kindness to some was only practicality to Tikigâk. It was time to move on. And so she stepped away from the carcass she had voraciously dug into, wordlessly allowing him room as she now created some space between them. Tikigâk stepped toward older tracks of his, keeping her distance, to sniff at them.