Firefly Glen in my veins like fire

he watches, still as stone, breath steaming in thick bursts from flared nostrils. she laps at the blood from the snow. he does not interrupt; only watches, brown eyes full of sparking curiosity. the sight is gravely attractive, curling something within his stomach.
he had always a taste for the macabre.
þīn wǣstm is strang. this woman certainly cannot understand him, as he cannot understand her, but it does not stop him from speaking his truth. the compliment is accessorized by the faint wag of his tail.
when she does not bare fangs, he steps in. keeps to the hind flank. tears muscle with quiet precision. enjoying the feral truth of only meat and silence between two feasting hunters.