The hunter's death happened rather quickly with that sickening crunch and collapse of this spine breaking at the neck. He received a more merciful than the death he would have offered either of them. He only knew a sliver of the pain he inflicted upon her, it had taken her longer than she would have liked to heal, holed up in that apartment. Unable to do much else other than sleep to allow that rapid healing to work the through poison and silver that infected her.

There was a growl, ferocious and menacing forged from the sound of Mira's voice in the giant wolf's head. Okay, so the woman didn't appreciate the words. No talking then. She remains still, noticing the high dislike of the object that so vehemently and stubbornly remained embedded within her cheek. How painful it must have been and perhaps Mira even felt bad for her, despite her hesitation in aiding her. She was at least three times the size of a normal wolf, the seemingly timid woman that once was far gone, her stare something feral and distant. But at last, she was glad the hunter was dead. Perhaps now, at least for a time, the woods would again be a safe place to roam with the wild call whispers within her.

The massive wolf, took a step close to the pitch wolf. Mira remains steadfast, strong and fearless. Even though a more submissive wolf would probably hunker or even flee at such a sight, for fear that those ferocious bared fangs would turn upon her. But Mira was no submissive. She remains stoic, her stance a picturesque scene, her golden stare remaining upon the creature, that once timid wolf full of fear. Not a muscle twitches out of place, nor her gaze averting as the giant examines the lifeless body on which she perches like a crow. The tension was tangible like a dense haze upon them, but it does not hinder her. When suddenly the gigantic and majestic creature's weighted attention ended upon her, eyes flicker into what only one could explain as curiosity.

At least, she hoped she was not wrong.

The pitch she-wolf tolerates the other touching her, despite her utter dislike of it. The massive wolf's nudged her wounded side roughly as she drew in her scent. A growl remained stifled within her throat, as a wince of pain flashed behind those intelligent golden globes for eyes, ouch. It took every ounce to remain her composure as the pain urged her to defend herself. But she needed to play this out smartly. Mira takes this moment to do the same as the large wolf did drawing forth her scent. She could smell the scent of the man that had helped her in the woods. Peculiar.

However, despite that utterly tense moment something almost unexpected happened. Her massive curled tail began wag and her tense composure seems to ease slightly, that blade still unmoving and embedded within her muzzle. The smell of blood, their blood and his, seeped into the air with that coppery assaulting smell. The tension leaves her for now, but she couldn't stand seeing that hilt sticking out of her face, blood steadily dripping from her gigantic muzzle. Mira allows her tail to idly move to and fro, allowing her stance to not hold that regal rigidness it held once before and into something far more relaxed, despite that cursed piercing pulsing pain in her side.

She takes this moment to press her luck, to move languid and steadfast, her maw held agape with the intent to grab the hilt betwixt her teeth. She moves quick, knowing it would hurt less if she did so, but also risked the tattooed wolf snapping at her with those menacing teeth that could surely crush her wind pipe. She tore it out, keeping it as steady as she could in her smaller height, using the hunter's lifeless corpse for added height. Once the blade was out she whipped her head to toss the bloodied blade into the nearby bushes, like it were a twig. The movement jarred her, reminding her of her own pain once more. 'Fuck..' she hisses.

Mira does return to face her, golden eyes expectant and waiting. At least the poor beast could think straight without a dagger sticking out of her face, like some horror film scene. It would take some time for that deep wound to heal and she fights the urge to explore it. She does not move to examine that gaping slice, but waits to gauge the others response as tension once more floods this grisly scene.

Mira Ramos