Dawnlark Plains caught in your riptide

"what kill? i see only fleeing deer and a failed ambush." he spits, lip curled in a sneer. her paw presses firm upon his throat, a silent threat, but he does not waver. instead he snarls, breath hot as it clashes with hers, and snaps jaws open and shut in warning. emýr's scent is upon him, heavy and warm and inviting, and it bolsters his confidence. the raven prince will tear him apart for this later- but not before he saves him. again.

"release me now, or you will regret it."