Moonspear the devil at your door

The ruby blood which beaded upon her whiskers had not been drawn from the feline now prowling Moonspear, but from the two kits she had birthed a fortnight previous. The raven-cloaked woman had stumbled upon their den entirely by accident, and she had slaughtered the young immediately upon their discovery. 
As the cat mother cried out in anguish, the wolves descended. Oblivious to her loss.
Except for the unnamed wolf who stalked the invisible line between pack and wild lands. She knew of the crime comitted, the evidence still stained her lips. She would remain alert and keep herself hidden, ready to spring into action and give chase should the cougar try to turn back around.