She looked up with a start, bristling and red eyes gleaming. She had been incautious. Careless. The scent of the fowl had masked his approach.

When she saw that he wasn’t about to seize her meal from her, her senses returned to her. The fur on her back lay flat, though she was careful not to let her focus drift from him. He was handsome, this much she could see. Stranger was the item he carried in his jaws. A pipe.

“Catch one yourself, then,” she snorted before gripping a leg between her jaws. She pulled it free with a pop. If she noticed the gristly mess she was making, sticky blood and feathers smeared on her snout, she didn’t seem to care. As intent as she seemed on her food, there was still a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes.

“What good’s a pipe to a wolf?” she asked between mouthfuls.