It was surprising to Kneph to feel just how cold the green beast was beneath his paw as he swatted at it. Its scales were hard and fissured, like ancient rocks, and its eyes held all the emotions one would expect of a mountain. The wolf could almost hear its thoughts; patience, and blood and hunger. A shiver rippled through him from nose to tail tip, and the great beast seized the opportunity to lunge at him, missing his neck by a hair's breadth and causing him to shimmy backwards in the slippery mud, haphazardly as a newborn. Throughout the dance of death, he had been utterly transfixed by his prey, forgetting all about Aithne who watched with amusement from a distance. However, as that muscular tail launched the heavy body of the alligator his way once more, he stood his ground, trusting that the black female who hunted with him would seize the opportunity he had given her. Thankfully, she did just that. In a flurry of fur and teeth, she bolted like an arrow freshly loosed, embedding her sizeable fangs into the neck of the lizard and using all her strength to lift his front legs from the earth, thereby removing his leverage and throwing him off balance. Watching from the side, Kneph noted that the scales linging the neck and underbelly of the creature were soft and pliable, easily manipulated by the bone-crushing strength of a wolf. The alligator hissed defiance, eyes still expressionless as ever, and Aithne managed to heave the creature onto its back, never once letting go of her hold on its relatively vulnerable neck. Amidst the thrashing of claws and the heaving, muddy mass of wolf and reptile, Kneph caught Aithne's eyes flashing at him, meaning in their depths.

He wouldn't have to be told twice.

The scent and sight of scarlet blood dripping from the black wraith's chin and pooling at her paws awoke the blood-lust in Kneph that is common to all wolf kind. All remnants of apprehension left him, to be replaced by a desperate craving for flesh. Dodging the finally weakening kicks of the doomed alligator, The blue-black male leapt atop its belly and grabbed a mouthful of skin between his teeth. One rip, and it was all over. Hot guts spilled from the cavity the wolf had excavated and, although its innards were slightly fishy, Kneph decided it was pallatable enough. Fat and fluids gushed from his jaws as he ripped and pulled at the carcass, growling quietly whenever their feeding brought the heads of the pair in proximity to one another, as wolves are apt to do. He had not heard the other speak, giving him tips about where to tear, he had simply let instinct take over and it had served him well.

Every now and again the male would pause in his feast to glance at his partner, busying herself swallowing the slippery, nutritious fat whole. Her chest fur was caked in drying blood and the success of the hunt had seemed to fill them both with good spirits. It was only after the male's belly was fully distended did Kneph cease to binge. He pulled away from the carcass, dimly surprised that it, which had before appeared to be only muscle and scale, would hold enough food to satisfy two hungry mouths. Stumbling slightly beneath the extra weight, he flopped down in a patch of sunlight (a safe distance from any pool of water), and began to pant. For the first time in several months, Kneph felt content. He was warm, free of ghosts and full to the brim. Life could be worse.

Smiling, he turned to his companion, white eyes glinting still from the thrill of the hunt. Perhaps he would remain in Iromar after all.

Perhaps.