The Bracken Woods one

lorcan watches. curious, but unreadable.
she does not speak. she does not challenge. she only licks her lips clean of blood and steps away, making room.
an offering, or indifference? he cannot tell.
his ears twitch as she moves past him, inspecting tracks—his own. he does not move to the carcass, not yet.
what do you see? an appraising, scarred, golden eye turned upon her in question.