Honeyed Pasture i've got a good feeling; it doesn't happen very often

A brow raises as his ravenous hunting partner takes her share. He was patient and so had little problem with it. Marcus subconsciously licks at the blood that now began to crust around his once white maw. "Skills." The man grunted. "You should see me fish. I'm a regular angler." Slowly now, his crown dips to finish where Wren left off. Ripping the pelt off first was his favorite part of any large game kill. 

Stripping the meat until he too was full, there was an uneasiness the wolf felt deep in his chest, although the loner couldn't place a paw on why it settled there. The two relaxed now, facing each other, with the shredded corpse of a once lively fawn displayed between them like a center piece. It was an homage to the hunt itself.

"A woman? No, no." By the grace of whatever higher power there was above, he managed to not sound shocked or upset. It was but a light hearted laugh that he returned as his red crown shook back and forth. There was no lie here, so he didn't feel bad for withholding further information. She didn't need to know. "Maybe a pack one day but for now... I'm content with days like this."