Mudminnow River i am an anarchist; an anti-christ; an asterisk

Paws skid against the muddy bank, jaws snap, and an abrupt squeal marks the end of his hunt. His head shakes once, violently, snapping bones and spraying blood and loose fur. Then he drops the twitching raccoon in the mud, confident that it won't be going anywhere, and turns to drink from the silty waters. He's had worse. His muzzle wrinkles at the taste nonetheless, finding it an unwelcome change from the warm raccoon blood that had coated his tongue moments ago, and he turns back to the creature with a new eagerness. He settles where he is, tearing the creature apart brutally yet carefully avoiding marring one half of it. His mother is near, and will no doubt appreciate such a gift later.

Midway through his journey with Fields to Bearclaw Valley, Ico prowled a little while East to find a safer ford across the winding river. But as he watched the river grow mercifully more shallow, the young wolf could not help but notice a smell. Prey!

Hoping very much that it was something small, so he could handle it, perchance to impress his travelling companion, Ico lowered his white muzzle to the ground and began to track it.

Before long, fate revealed a more troubling plan. Ico ascended the bank to find that the creature (a raccoon?) was already betwixt the powerful jaws of an ebony colossus. I'm... not here, he heard himself utter breathlessly, but it was more of a wish as he began to back away submissively.

The brute's ears twitch at the sound of another's approach past the rather gross wet sound of him enjoying his meal. His tail flicks as he lifts his head, catlike, though without the same precision of movement. A tiny, pale thing seems to be making a rather nervous backward retreat, cowering as he goes as if he'd stumbled on the devil himself in his own domain. Prometheus snorts, rising lazily and drawing himself up to his full height. He's amused, though one would never guess by looking at the mask of indifference he wears. His gaze lingers on the small boy, oblivious to his mutterings. He only watches for now, waiting to see what the spooked stranger's next move will be.

Of course he should've fled, he should've fled like a fly from a spider. But Ico was easily compelled by fascinating things, and the stranger was so regal and powerful and statuesque, Ico could not help but pause in his retreat. They were a good distance apart now, and the youth saw no bared teeth, nor heard a rumble of warning. I... shan't come near your food, he said pointlessly. Reassuring the stranger of this was like the the rain reassuring a rock that it wasn't going to melt it.

I'm seeking a safe place to cross, he gestured at the river with his slim muzzle. Yes he was vaguely hoping for directions, but more than that he was wishing for some clue into who this shadow could be — and what his story was.