It moves faster than she would have expected for one of its girth and height, whirling around to examine her with a huff and an irritable grumble. Eyes like pools of ink stare her down. Hot, putrid breath fans the fur of her face, and a dangling tendril of half-chewed carrion flutters about the behemoth's lower jaw. Häti grimaces, bites back a gag and speaks.

"A bite or two, if it's all the same to you." She raises her head, and even then is unable to meet the sheer height of this thing. Did the ocean spit her out? Häti looks her over, from bloodstained face to snubby little tail, and with a nod decides she has no clue whatsoever what this thing is. Certainly no wolf, no coyote— no desert creature, for certain. A living, breathing mass of muscle and fur.

She lowers her head to inspect its massive claws, comparing them to her own teeth with a brief parting of her jaws. Mm, nowhere near similar in length or width.

"What are you?" At last she asks, blunt and shrill and grating all at once. Front paws shift beneath her, urging her to circle. Inspect further, examine. But some deep-rooted instinct tells her to stay where she is, allow this beast to decide she is not worth harming.