I Write Sins Not Tragedies

it was faint over the roar of the gale, but he heard it; a distressed cry for help. Pleading for salvation. A wicked grin crossed his features as he ran through the squall, the helpless wail getting louder and louder with each stride. Rain lashing at his eyes and dulling all his senses, but he knew he had to get there, hunger drove him, a primal call he never ignored, and the chance for an easy meal, too much to ignore. He flew through the air and landed on the trunk of a fallen tree, ears pulled back and a snarl teasing at his muzzle from the grin. He was surprised, pleasantly so, to find such a familiar face waiting for him. "Well isn't this a treat" He chuckled, pacing up the length of the tree slowly "Looks like someone could use help."
He sang, his baritone voice booming over the thunder and wind. "Poor little pup, I wonder how desperate you are, I wonder what you'll give me if I help you." His grin spread wider at the thought, If she went quietly he'd demand a night of relief after they reached safety, should she refuse he'd simply get violent as usual and leave her for dead.

"Speech"
'thoughts'