Sun Mote Copse tell me that story about the west again

Slavik frowned when the response to his chuff was to run faster. If the other had been willing to talk it out, Slavik likely would've been fine giving him most of the catch. Well now, Slavik wanted all of it. Slavik resumed his own pace, his legs working harder than they normally would during a hunt. While he was a nice and usually easygoing character, he did not like to lose. He had a bit of an ego, and he would not lose his clout as a hunter to some stranger in the night. He was being naïve again in assuming that this was friendly competition, it might've been a mistake on his part, but he was adamant against quitting this one.

Somehow the boy got ahead of Behemoth, perhaps he was faster, perhaps he was lucky. He finally could see the outline of the feathered animal, and with a snarl he lunged forwards, bowling it over like a bowling pin. He snapped his teeth around the helpless animal's neck, and felt the blood trickle into his mouth. His stomach roared triumphantly, and he turned around to face where he was sure his competitor would appear from. He was a fool for waiting.