The wolfdog took the knife, and Levent smirked although he didn’t say anything. He’d been prepared to help butcher the carcass himself, since it was a process he was used to, but if the other male could do it, that was fine by him. He slipped his hands into his pockets, watching skin freed from meat and muscle. His nose twitched at the smell, and he wondered if there would be more food to add to the little stockpile the odd pair had going on. It was nice to have some meat stashed somewhere just in case, although Wilson was pretty self-reliant when it came to hunting mice.
Hadley made the realization shortly, but the Turkish wolf took a step back to distance himself from the half-skinned carcass. “A group of Good Samaritan warriors,” Levent mused, “and probably all taller than me.” He ignored the tomcat’s amused look and shrugged his shoulders lightly. “I guess I’m really too cowardly to be a warrior,” he decided. He had no problem admitting this to a former slave, though. To be cowardly was to survive, and no one could say he didn’t take risks in other fields. He forced thoughts of the blonde merchant out of his mind with some difficulty.
“Do you like it?” He smiled at Hadley, admiring the muscles in his arms as he forced the blade through the deer’s skin. “Being free, being in a pack.”
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