Totoka River teeth like kindling

from the shadows he shifts. steps quiet in a way that belied his size. stalking, pacing, sulking. following the distant symphony of growls drawing him closer. a pair of emerald eyes, intense and narrowed, watching. until from the shadows he is born.

it's a pathetic squabble—an equally pathetic man of skin-and-bone trying to thieve from a woman. a crime that emýr, ever the hero, could not ignore. he surges forward to thwart the smaller man before he could lunge for the rotting carrion; using brutish strength to knock the man onto his back. 

a large paw dipped in ink pins him down. expression incredulous and deceivingly calm as Emýr glares past his crooked snout. "let the woman eat, thief." comes his low warning, rough like gravel.