Dawnlark Plains ranger

She ate, pulling apart the meat that remained with verve. As he stepped nearer, her muzzle wrinkled in warning—another step, and she growled. Something had shifted the moment the meat came into “her possession”, and now Tikigâk would fight for the thing that became hers if that claim, as long as the meal would last her, was threatened. 

But he did not seem to seek to contest that. Whatever else he sought came second to this meal, and once she finished the intestines upon the earth she turned from it to follow her nose. Both ears back- turned, listening for him even still. He remained, perhaps for the sole reason that the kill was still there—even if it was her he orbited around then, pulled into the gravity of her void. 

But the liver was gone. Disappointing, but unsurprising.

She licked the blood and gristle off of her muzzle and turned to regard him, loosing forth a rumble of her own. Tikigâk saw strength in him, and that in of itself meant something to her.