Falls of the Hinterlands I could fight this 'til the end but maybe I don't wanna win

It was a surprise even to her, but Fennec actually found her fight.

On the other side of the mountain she’d just found more stone pathways leading up to new and different heights. She’d climbed and scaled until she reached a boundary she couldn’t cross - a ledge that seemed to drop into nothing. Traveling along this, she’d come across another wolf, one with a kill they’d seemingly taken down shortly before.

She didn’t even want the food. It was cruel of her to chase them from it, to even try attacking them for it, but she needed to fight something and the wolf hadn’t wanted to leave it behind. She’d attacked without hesitation the instant she recognized where they were and, with the advantage of surprise, had gotten them off their paws early. After that the fight was hers.

She’d sent it running and the air was still heavy with the scent of blood. Fennec had spilled more of theirs, but she doubted they’d die. Probably just hide and nurse their wounds somewhere. She sat next to the kill and ran her tongue over her muzzle, feeling the roughness of where the other wolf’s claws had torn at it. The bleeding had already stopped, just like the couple of bite marks she’d earned.

It was almost too short and easy. Fennec frowned and thought about just leaving the kill to the birds, but then stood and picked up a leg to begin dragging it back towards the Moonspear. It was on the small side, a young mountain goat, but even what was left could feed a couple. Might as well.

She wished they’d put up more of a fight.