There was only one coyote left to fight, and it was scared. Vaken snapped his teeth towards it, but the pathetic creature quickly stumbled back and raced away before he could finish the fight. Letting out an angry hiss, Vaken stomped a paw in frustration. “I didn’t even get to kill it,” he whined, watching it vanish through the forest.

He stood still for a second and panted, catching his breath and evaluating his surroundings. There was no danger, but his blood was still pumping. The adrenaline was hard to settle. It was unsatisfying knowing he had not completely killed his attacker, but he didn’t dare chase after him. Instead, he let himself relax, attempting to accept the unfortunate outcome.

When he was fully at ease, he turned around towards Ferreiran and made his way over. His eyes glanced at the dead coyote momentarily, proud for the black wolf, and then back at his companion. Softly, he pressed his nose against the yearling’s flank. It was a small sign of Vaken’s appreciation and gratitude for the lone wolf. It was quick, and subtle, but it was all Vaken knew how to do. He knew that his friend would understand it.

Once he was done, he turned towards the new stranger and offered a little grunt of satisfaction. “You’re a good fighter,” he acknowledged, keeping his voice hollow of any emotion. He was stating a fact, not trying to romance the older grey and beige wolf. “Handled yourself quite nicely,” he added, studying the wolf’s appearance.

A rip in the ear. Cuts along his side- interesting. Vaken looked away and stretched out his front paws, acting disinterested. “All that fighting made me hungry. Should probably go try and catch some prey down south a little- maybe less coyotes over there. Care to join us?”