Redhawk Caldera oh won't you take me home. [m]

In response to his rush, the strange creature flopped onto its—her, he mentally corrected—back, a sign of total submission and surrender. It gave Peregrine pause because he knew that language (body language, that is) so well and it was hard to ignore. Suddenly, he began wondering if killing this small beast would be equivalent to cannibalism. He had no qualms slaying coyotes and foxes but they rarely behaved this way. They either fought or fled; they did not submit.

He backed off, licking his lips and staring at the weak, trembling terrier. Well, if she was some sort of peculiar wolf, then she was trespassing. He didn't have to eat her but it was still his prerogative to kill her. After reasoning this out with himself, Peregrine renewed his attack, aiming to slice that exposed belly with his wild, wicked fangs.