Firefly Glen i used to dream

Nostrils flare in irritation. The stench won’t leave him—no matter what he does, it sticks and it lights a undesirable fire within the ruddy boy. The howl replays, echoing within his black ears. It sends a shiver up his spine. He hates it all. The urge feels like the need to fight. In the end, he leaves.
South he strides with a purpose in his step. The aura of rage seeping off him. Eyebrows etched downwards, lips pulled in such a sharp, exaggerated frown that struggles to keep teeth in line. He wants to rip into flesh. At first, he debates a leg, he could easily reach his own, and the pain might just be what he needs to subside the feeling.
Yet the scent of a fresh kill lures him in like a moth to flame. Where there is a kill, there must be another wolf—and where there is another wolf, there is another fight. His lip twitches.

It had been another success, small but still substantial. Some beasts young had been taken down by Moonspear but the day prior, just outside of their borders thanks to the direction their chase had led them in. They had done well to ensure that no other predators took control of their carcass, and Hydra moved with Dragomir now to guarantee that none would. 

The matriarch had eaten her fill the day of the hunt though had left the bones alone. She surveyed them idly, and moved to sniff at the meat to ensure no foul play had transpired in between shifts. Detecting none, Hydra gestured to it in case @Dragomir found himself hungry still. For her own part, she marked around it; what was left of this belonged to Moonspear, and Moonspear alone. It seemed that the food was returning, but Hydra left nothing to chance; all others could starve so long as her own family thrived. A selfish outlook to be sure, but Hydra cared for precious few beyond her borders.

I’m sorry this took forever If you’re interested in spreeing it done, pls lemme know! I’d be happy to. Anddd feel free to write the NPCs however you like!

The lure of food during such harsh times brings not only he. Lurking in the shadows is three sets of eyes, all on the prize—it is a risk, they know, but why resist when they don’t know when their next opportunity may me? Though they lurk, they wait—impatient with drool dripping from jowls and quiet snapping and shoving amongst themselves.
They halt their impatience, however, as the younger of two Moonspearians depart from the kill. Now there is only one, and though they could wait further—the hunger in their stomachs urges them to gamble. Two circle along the outskirts, taking to the undergrowth and hiding their scents the best they could, while the last slides into the clearing—approaching Hydra.  

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Meanwhile, Kratos is on his way, approaching from the north—the further he gets from Neverwinter, the better. The irritation rolling off him in waves, as if it could be seen as a transparent red.