Arrow Lake when there's blood in the water

The prey was noticed—Kazimer’s scent upon the breeze that teased her senses just barely past the scent of blood and birth. She curled more protectively against her brood, but the cinnamon she-wolf came no closer. Chuffing quietly, the mother resumed grooming her youth, her jewelled gaze flicking to the den entrance every so often, content to know that out of all of her comrades, at least one was not willing to cast her and her babies aside.