Snarls thundered from the giant woman's chest, the force of which caused ripples across the shallow waters as she disrupted everything that was beautiful and peaceful about the glade. There were no whispers to be heard here; only her splashing paws as she tore through the calm wetland, bringing the mud and muck from the bottom of the pools of water to cloud their serene surfaces. Remy had no apology for the ferocity with which she tore through the land, for some several yards ahead of her leapt a mule deer. He was of decent size, with one of his newly coming antlers already broken off - the result of a territorial dispute with another one. And similarly, the male had acquired a few bruises and cuts on the front of his chest and legs. They were bleeding openly from his movement, and the smell of fresh blood brought the vicious female closer and closer to him. It was irresistible. Yet they weren't causing the mule deer enough pain yet, for the male continued to stot as opposed to flat out sprint, leaping forward on four hooves as though it were some kind of game.

Remy would make sure it was a game he'd lose.

Dirty water was spraying all over her pristine chest, marking her legs with ticks and freckles with such quick dots that it almost looked as though it were an intentional pattern created by her genes. But no such frivolous matter was important to the behemoth, not before, and especially not now. Remy was a wolf of great stature, and the fleeing prey would provide her with sustenance she not only craved but needed. The bulk of her weight had to be supported. Once Elettra's cry brought together the new pack, she would have little to worry about. Pack hunts were often fruitful in taking down one or more of the larger prey. Rabbits and goat alone hadn't done her justice in the past weeks - she needed the bastard animal. Her heart thundered with the effort of chasing the more nimble creature, but she knew he would begin to tire. Those tears in his legs would change from an uncomfortable nuisance to a ripping sting each time he bounded. All she had to do was maintain her footing in this forsaken wetland and tire him out.

Mission impossible? Perhaps it was. But Remy did not ever turn down a mission; here was just another challenge.

Remy's pursuit never paused; she watched the deer fumble slightly as something furry darted out of its way. The resulting snarl and rear of the creature proved it was another wolf, who twisted in the air like a freaking ballerina to take down the male deer. It had been sheer luck that the male had taken down the mule deer. It took at least two wolves to do such a feat; it was impossible for one wolf on their own. Even more impressive, he had done so with one twisty-dance move and had miraculously planted his teeth in the correct location on the throat, all while the beast was charging and the wolf was waking up from a nap. She rolled her eyes - what a kind world it was for him today. He would never get so lucky again. But perhaps she ought not to call him so fortunate, but Remy had no intention of relinquishing her meal.

A crooked grin graced her face as she stalked forward, grace being one of the characteristics Remy did not possess. Not a fucking chance she was losing her pursuit for some asswipe who happened to be in the right place at the right time. Luck was no reward; hard work was, and it had been Remy's hard work. She did not stop as she came forward, her steps never slowing while her tail rose high in the air. The bulky female's red ears came down upon her skull, a warning. There was nothing in her posture that implied the threat of attack, only denying weakness. The way her fur bristled atop her thickly-muscled body proved she couldn't care less for his bared fangs; did he suppose a little blood scared her? The Alaskan tank of a wolf wasn't going to be swayed by one wolf, not today and not ever.

Her teeth sank into the succulent flesh of the downed deer's flank, tearing away instantly. Blood dripped from her maw as her jaws clashed together, quickly swallowing the meat without much time for chewing. This stupid loner was probably going to try and keep her from her meal, and Remy wasn't going to be caught off-guard for when he attacked. It wasn't worth the wounds, truly. The deer was of good size and would be more than plentiful for the both of them. Yet from the way the asshole had just gotten up and taken it as his, standing there with that stupid snarl on his face, Remy couldn't help but assume he didn't play well with others.

Her eerie stare, pale and tinted green, would not leave the other male as he considered her - or at least, that's what Remy assumed he was doing. There was no tell-tale sign of anything to be found within his stormy blue eyes, and the snarl on his face was just a mask to her. She didn't care for it. Apparently, he didn't care for it much longer either. The expression disappeared entirely and, slightly baffled, Remy lifted her blood-stained maw. She bristled, finding it difficult to trust the large wolf as he quieted and lowered his body as well, but moments would pass in silence and the male began to eat. It would appear his interest in her threat had been lost.

Slowly, she tore away more of the flesh of the fallen deer, still looking at him from the corner of her eye. Yet he made no flinch of anger at her act of taking the food, and Remy was finally settled. So long as they could both eat in relative peace, she was quite content. The deer was delicious and satiated her wonderfully. As a pack wolf her bulk was a blessing, providing protection and intimidation as needed, yet as a lone wolf it was a hindrance to say the least. The male at the opposite end of the deer felt the hardship just as much as she did, for he was no slighter than she. In some hidden part of herself that was decent Remy felt grateful that he had decided to chose logic over pride. Perhaps it wasn't as difficult of a decision as it was for herself, but its importance was no less.

Something told her he was not the talkative type. Perfect. Remy didn't fancy small talk much either. So for the moment she allowed him to float to the back of her mind, and continued feasting alongside the male, genuinely pleased.

The male's movement did not provoke her anger, but her attention was easily taken by his movement. Still gnawing on a fresh chunk of meat from the fallen deer's soft underside she lifted her head, only slightly, and cast her pale green gaze upon him. She refrained from raising her hackles; though he had yet to perform any particular act to gain her trust, Remy did not feel the immediate urge to assert her dominance one again. After all, the male's blue eyes were fixed cautiously on her as well. That alone made it clear to the Mackenzie-blooded female that he was not attempting anything particularly shady, though it was not reassuring enough for her to look away. Still chewing slowly, she watched as the male began tearing into the deer's ribcage, further and further deep. It took a moment for Remy to realize what he was aiming for.

A short, dark laugh would follow her connection before she turned away and went back to the tough meat of the animal's leg. The delicacies she would take later, once he'd accessed the heart. How morbid, and yet she was surprisingly pleased by it. He was among one of the only wolves she had come across in this friendly-loner ridden wasteland. They all liked to prance around and make friends and blather and prattle on in a manner akin to mumpsimus. Now this wolf had sense and an obvious bloodlust - the two combined created strength. Remy had no desire to hinder him on his way to happiness *(whatever expression of the emotion wolves like them could achieve) and sunk her teeth closer to the animal's soft belly. Clinquant blood dripped down her maw and on to her throat as the feeding continued.

The male went along with his business, harvesting his delicacy from the cavity of the deer's chest. He took his privacy to enjoy the spoils of his labor and Remy appreciated that, turning her attention into the creature's soft underside. She was beginning to feel about as plump as the deer had looked, bounding through the thicket into its sudden death and her feeding began to slow. Her life as a lone wolf would not further much longer than it already had. Elettra had garnered plenty of followers and all they needed to do was stake a claim. Soon, food would be easy to come by and plentiful for the large female. But one could never be too sure when their next meal was coming. Rather than stuff herself beyond comprehension, Remy decided there was plenty left of their meal for a little carry-out to be welcome.

Once again she looked toward the male, who had finished his meal and begun to preen. Had she not gained any respect for the male she would have snarled and ripped from the carcas a good hunk of leg and dragged it off into the wood to save for later. Of course, her intention was still very much to do so, but with a lot less violent manner. The look in her eyes did not ask permission, but it was informative of her intentions: a mere formality that she deigned to give to those worthy of her respect. The dark blue of his eyes was surpisingly less cautious than it had been before - he appeared to be merely looking at her rather than watching her. Delicately she began to gnaw at the flank to try and separate a leg from the body, curious if he had something to say or was merely observing an equal.