Wapun Meadow garrote

Donovan chuckles back, padding next to the male. His head level with his shoulders and a straight back. His tail curled high, he nods eagerly. “Of course.” He offers his services to his ally. This will be fun. 

Yet he trails behind as Merrick speeds up, hanging comfortably near his hip instead of beside. He listens intently to the information Merrick feeds him. Donovan hungrily soaking it in. The drama between the two packs is palpable — it excites him. They’ll probably get shredded if they go with these numbers and Donovan can guarantee it’s not going to be friendly. 

He sees the gleam of teeth and he can’t help but show his own in a malicious smirk at his counterparts last words. He chuckles deeply, the sound baritone coming from his chest. “Let’s kill ‘em then.” Comes his snake like reply. “We’d have trouble doing that with these numbers.” He references the three of them. Against a whole pack? Not gonna happen.