Redhawk Caldera Back before birthdays were something she dreads

Thanks for joining!

 
Hotah’s head lifted from the deer, muzzle still dark with blood, ears pricking at the familiar scent before the sound of paws confirmed it.
Cinar.
He set aside the cut of meat he’d been working on and turned, posture easy though his size made it hard not to look imposing. You came at a good time, he said, voice carrying more warmth than the grim work around him might suggest. A flick of his nose indicated the divided piles. Plenty to go around, and I could use another set of paws getting it moved.
Hotah gave a short nod, trying to bridge the gap. Hotah, he offered simply, steady gaze meeting Cinar’s. Figured we’d cross paths sooner or later.