AND WE'LL NEVER BE ROYALS
IT DON'T RUN IN OUR BLOOD
THAT KIND OF LUXE JUST AIN'T FOR US

Ah, the fresh metallic smell of blood in the morning! What was there not to love in this? The red spined daughter of the Bloodmouth mimicked her mother this morning. Already her mouth carried the dead carcass of a rabbit, the red that covered her mouth and throat telling all that the near four year old was a capable hunter. The winter coat made her appear larger than she was in the way of build but it did not hide that she was a Demon, thoroughly bred and raised. The golden eyes watched as she neared the other wolves. She was only slightly concerned that they would try to steal her meal. It was not that she thought any of these others were better than she, but it would be the sheer number of creatures that could potentially over power her.

Hepzibah stays tight to the treeline, watching and picking up a trot with her head held high enough that the hares feet did not even grace the land. Why should she share her meal? Iromar's alligators lay mostly dormant or migrated. The swamp elk lingered but even as big as she was, Hepzibah could not hope to take down a loner by herself. It would seem that the growing crowd was far more interested in the elk that they took down than a lone Demon carrying a rabbit back into Iromar. And that suited the former Princess just fine. Let them be greedy vultures, she would have a full stomach by the end of this little expedition. What would they have? Probably one just grumbling for more and some battle wound by a hungrier wolf that bested them.

WE CRAVE A DIFFERENT KIND OF BUZZ