King Elk Forest ᛒlóð hunt

Moonbow swept closer, regardless of invitation. She would feast, welcomed or not. Her sodalite gaze narrowed. Her gait lax. "You reek of piss." She drawled with a toothy, fleeting grin. His bravado was met with an amused huff, a flex of shoulders. She feared no man, not even one with a bloodstained face and tattered spirit.

The contents of his kill steam in the cold. Miténa's tongue curled and rasped as she took her place at his side. She is not shy to hide the judgement in her gaze, nor does she hide her approval. His tongue is strange.

Stooping low and bending at the neck, the huntress sank her fangs into the kill's blood-slick liver.

"Piss-man have name?" She soothed between mouthfuls.