Sunset Valley 'til the day that i die

the scent of the stag is heavy on the wind. it brought the cold bite of the glacier closer, but it was the hunt that consumed her now.
swollen muscles coiled beneath white fur, the pull of instinct ready to spring. she readied herself. but a familiar stench causes her nostrils to flare.
it is the norseman. the stag notices too.
it is close, and the moment to strike slips away. without another moment wasted, her legs move, quick and sure, with fangs bared in a silent snarl.
the arrow of the hunt was released—a well-timed strike, her claws extended to launch her forward in a single, powerful lunge. the stag does not stand a chance.
its startled cry echoes briefly, but it falls just as fast when her teeth sink into tender flesh. she holds until the wild pulse within her mouth quiets, then disappears. 
anoré stands over her kill with hackles raised. pallid tongue wipes the corners of her crimson flecked maw as she glares into the treeline at his bulking silhouette.
"either step out and speak, or return to your pile of rocks."