Silvertip Mountain after dark

Skyfall's delay had been excusable, in his eyes. As he wound his way up the mountain and finally latched onto Tonravik's scent, he wondered what she would say about his tardiness. He was sure, however, that the two fat fish clutched between his jaws would dissuade her from anger. Skyfall climbed the mountain carefully, not used to the highest reaches, when a blood-curdling screech met his ears. Abandoning precaution, fearing for Tonravik's safety, Skyfall dashed uphill and finally found his companion standing near another, completely intact.

He dropped the fish at his own feet and looked at her inquiringly. What was that? His breath panted out between his teeth. His ascent had been fast and precarious, with little regard to the bounty he carried. The fish looked a little worse for wear, but edible still. There was another scent that hung around her, around this place, and his eyes reached downward toward a slick black creature that hovered over the felled goat. Who was this? Skyfall didn't speak aloud, but moved his gaze between it and Tonravik, silently asking for answers.