Herbalists' Cache κ

a voice. one he did not know—but was that rare? a few days he had walked with his brother's clan. dark fang only let himself know the most important, others faded easily and swiftly into the background.
but this voice is heavily accented, contorted by speech he does not recognize. it is outlandish, in a way. the hunter sets out in a stalk, though fairly quick footed, leaving the area of sun eater's inhabitance.
there, a man clad in bearskin. fur grizzled, smelling of carrion. dark fang shows no outward signs of disgust as he lopes closer, tail high now, flying arrogantly above. you.
why you would speak to sun eater? a demands. eyes narrowing sightly upon this bold stranger.
dark fang leers impatiently, feeling the rise of hackles; of guard hairs that sat comfortably at his shoulders before, now spiking with authority. he could not have this.
we kill you, a threat bitten off his red teeth, soon if you no go.
all were a threat now, deemed by dark fang. no stranger could walk the cache.