The mud of Iromar presses between her toes and she curls her lip in distaste. It would take clever work to make sure this soil reached the forest pack if she decided to try and frame them. The idea has merit - they had earned her displeasure by taking away the very kill she had searched so long for and then debased her with such captivity. Still, her ultimate end game was to place her fangs around the throat of her half brother and to squeeze until no more life remained. For a moment she thinks about weaknesses -- like the weakness of a mother trying to protect her young. A father would do the same, no doubt, and a cruel twist to her tapered mouth is given but fades as she hears movement from within the den.

Yellow and white flecked eyes lift up to fasten upon the slender figure of the wolfess that appears. There is the defense of a mother in the line of her body, the way she coils upwards as if she can scare off the big bad monster. Eyes widen as Arace glances down in surprise. Feigned, of course. "Oh, I did not realize it was the den of a wolf. I thought I smelled fox." Now she gives a rather befuddled look at the ground then a sheepish smile back to Eleanor. With an innocent gesture of her muzzle she steps to the side a bit. "See? Smell here. I guess I'm not the first one around here," she says with her sweet, lyrical voice, so cultured and practiced. When Eleanor comes closer, no doubt worried about such a turn of events, Arace strikes. Her movements are precise and quick. When Eleanor lowers her head so does Arace until she slams her chest into the other's and manages to fasten those glistening teeth around Eleanor's slender next. The pressure that builds within her mouth is a glorious feeling; she can feel the way Eleanor struggles. The way her claws scratch at her legs, dislodging only a few pieces of dirt that smell strongly of swamp and a bit of forest. But she doesn't stop.

She doesn't stop until Eleanor's gasps become silent moans, until the body she holds stills and falls into dead weight and drags her down. She lowers her whole body with that of Eleanor, gently placing the dead wolfess on the ground and staring into her empty eyes. "You let the fox in the henhouse, darlin. Never a wise idea, tsk, tsk," she murmurs in a cooing, sweet voice that goes unheard before she makes her way from Iromar, a ghost in the night.