Shaddix was not in this for the meal, not today at least. The idea of hunting a hunter, thrilling as it was, the pale wolf toyed with the idea of hunting hunters who hunted hunters. That would be an exciting chase. It was merely a thought he played with as his flat emerald eyes met those poisonous green ones. There was no flicker of fear or disdain, or anything much really towards Reaver in this moment. The russet marked beast did not expect thanks, for it was merely a spur of the moment. He could very well have waited, but that was time consuming.

The brute released his hold, licking his lips of the blood from the she-wolf's leg that had drained there. It was a delectable taste, but his need for food in the moment was minimal. He could eat, certainly, but not through any drive for hunger to fill his belly. His ears flicked, observing the monster that was his sire with merely a twisted grin. "Ever the talker, aren't you old man," he said with a short laugh as he watched Reaver take possession of the kill.

Even now, the idea of removing a predator of predators from the food chain intrigued him. It was something about some of the gestures the boy up in the Tundra had mad that had him wondering this. Did a wolf who ate other wolves taste differently? Shaddix wondered this in silence. It was a strange notion to think in such a way, but the thought was quite readily there as he watched his father. He highly doubted it would linger though, as hunting those who shared his base tastes and desires was not exactly something he deigned or desired to do. More to the point, he was more interested in what had become of their home and his mother.

Shaddix gave a slight shrug as he gave the other male some space, keeping his gaze fixated on him. "Just you then? Where are the others?" he asked as much demanded in his tone. Reaver would know what he meant. Who else might the brute even consider finding before deciding his own path now that he had returned to Moladion.