Totoka River teeth like kindling

"do not thank me." the crownore snaps, deceivingly calm and gruff. he wasn't in the business of helping mangy thieves, but an exception would be made for a creature as helpless as this. the feminine man very well likely could wither away before summer. Emýr has to convince himself he does not care. his steps are heavy as he carves through the snow, neck extended as he lowers his nose to the ground. a faint scent of a newly born fawn, surely still clumsy and uncoordinated enough to fall victim to the man's jaws.

irritation sizzles in his veins. while he may not be heartless, he isn't kind. the man was nothing but a burden, a responsibility Emýr had not been wanting, but was now stuck with for the time being. "you're a fool, for trying to thieve. lucky i was there." he chides. even luckier he was too morally obligated not to have let that woman maul him over a tainted meal. his father always did chide him for trying to be the hero. old habits die hard, it seems.

the scent was thicker now. in the distance was a gentle bleat. Emýr stops to swing around and face the man, lips pulled into a sneer. "don't move," he commanded. the fool would mostly ruin the chance for a kill, should he decide to try and join. the crownore's eyes are scathing before he whisks away, pace brisk.