Lost Creek Hollow In the dead of Night

Sorscha didn't respond beyond a smile, so Taikon abandoned his self-made podium and talk of royal blood. He noticed her tongue wet her lips, and grinned slyly. Nothing really, but I'm starting to get hungry, he said. Really, he was usually hungry. One of the unfortunate facts of lone wolf life was that kills were even more infrequent than co-operative hunts. The meals themselves were smaller and offered a fair variety, but often included things such as carrion. Taikon had eaten many dinners that were merely the spoils of cats and other predators.
We should hunt. It was a simple offer, and he looked at Sorscha, perking his ears up hopefully. Perhaps together, their chances might be improved, even if they had only just met.