Dawnlark Plains [m] haruspex

He turns. Tikigâk quickly weighs her odds, and determines that what little of this carcass was left was worth no squabble. It was no abandoned kill, it seemed. 

Tikigâk lifts her head and licks her chops as she creates distance between the headless kill and the male wolf who stares, his mood apparent. Tikigâk was ambivalent then, but her eyes did not leave him. Her guard was up—she watched his gait, seeking any hitch in it. The blood on the wind, was any of it his? Her gaze baldly assessed him, seeking weakness.

One ear turns toward the third among them as she moves.