Redhawk Caldera The Harlequin Lamp

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Having caught herself a meal, Niamh dragged the large beaver back and away from the lake to a small, grassy spot where she could set about demolishing it ravenously. As per usual, she was not a dainty or polite wolf when seated at any sort of meal, and she bit, tore and crunched through the animal's fur, skin and bones, growling the entire time. Whenever she found a chewy part, her growls became louder, and whenever she swallowed there was a momentary pause. But this was nothing out of the ordinary for the possessive she-wolf, who had shared most of her meals for the last six months with this year's children, and by now she expected them to be doing more hunting on their own. So when she got the oppotunity to make a kill on her own, she selfishly also wanted to eat it, all by herself.

She heard a twig snap, though, and lifted her head, baring her teeth in a savage grin as a warning. The only wolves she'd expect this deep within the Caldera were her own packmates, as their location made trespassing damn near impossible. Still, Niamh didn't generally share food if she didn't have to, so she peered into the woods that surrounded her, sniffed the air and, in finding no sight or scent of another wolf, she assumed it was potentially just a squirrel or bird, and continued eating.