When dinner is serious business and trust is optional.

The air carried a faint musk, earthy and raw, as they moved with deliberate purpose across the patchy ground. One of them gnawed ferociously on a scrap of meat, its teeth flashing briefly in the sunlight. The other paused, its gaze darting between me and its companion—a momentary calculation of risk and curiosity. Their red ears seemed almost luminous against their dark coats, like embers glowing faintly in shadow. The scene felt primal, stripped of pretense or artifice. In their world, every movement mattered; every glance carried weight.