Lone Star Mountain graustufen

"mahler."
the jaws of this bloodied wolf worked surely, steadily; in graciousness had the hunter even granted the gargoyle access to the choice entrails that lurked in the belly of the ram. and here he bit, heavy jaws slicing through winterhide, until the red river ran dark 'round his paws and the liver found itself in his jaws. good eating — good hunting.
the other bore eyes of argent intellect, and mahler saw there briefly the cunning strength that matched his own, and had carried stigmata though the would-be famine of a lonely life in the cold mountains. there was little doubt in the shadow's mind that they were well-met, and breaking the alliance composed in blood and in equality would be foolhardy.
when he could eat no more, mahler lifted his head and began to lap the cerise droplets from his jaw, surveying the night as a silent sentry while his companion continued.