Wapun Meadow If these sheets were the states

His victory was short lived as he stood above the bleeding wolverine, satisfied at the blood staining the snow. Which was his and which was the other creature's did not concern him, all he was focused on was the blood dripping from his grey muzzle. It tasted delicious, he concluded, though perhaps it was the taste of winning that pleased him so, rather than the actual taste of the wolverine on his tongue.

Then, during this moment that he was distracted, claws swiped at his chin and he lifted his head away, backpedaling to avoid further damage from the angry thing. In a quick flash, he attempted to regain his lead by slamming into the wolverine but it moved before he could catch it, rolling away to avoid his wrath.