Redhawk Caldera Puppies and Kitties

Lark scented another border, and veered to the side. The whole area was full of annoying wolf packs, more in one place then she had ever seen before. The lynx stopped suddenly with a low snarl. She, in no way had to acknowledge the borders. She wasn't a wolf. She walked over the line of scents and yellow snow, searching for her next meal. She made a point of marking a tree, almost itching for a fight.

The scent of prey met her nose, and in a flurry of snow she dug up one frosted slab of meat. She dragged it up into a gnarled tree, and began to wolf down the cold flesh on a low branch about 5 feet of the ground. She gazed at the few other pieces of meat lying around the hole, and licked her chops. Desert.