Blackfeather Woods Meal Politics

Cicero barely noted the look of surprise on Nemesis' face, registering it vaguely though it was well-hidden (and not unexpected to him). Cicero accepted whichever rank eventually was divided to him by fate; but that did not mean he would not try and fight for it in ways that suited him. Though he did not have an unquenchable thirst for rising in the ranks like Damien did, Cicero knew that he belonged near their top. His display of dominance might not be fruitful if Damien and Nemesis did not stay from the food to fight; Damien was perhaps the only one who could make Cicero win in this instance, for if he decided to physically assault Nemesis he would essentially make them both lose, in Cicero's mind. Nemesis — she was smarter than that, and he saw it in her eyes as all three of them dug into the meat, that she would not stay from the food to fight for a rank that was determined more by how hungry you were at the end of the night than whoever managed to beat the other's face to a bloody mess. Smart girl. Cicero liked that.

And so he did not move to physically assault anyone; instead, he just made sure that he would get his fill while his tail was lifted high, hackles raised, low gutteral growls in his throat. He figured that nothing would change in the ranks between them as things were, and was not sure if Damien would settle for that, but neither did Cicero trust that his brother would be smart enough to realise that Cicero would have free reign over the food if he would assault Nemesis physically to win her rank back for himself.

Eventually Cicero would stop eating, when he had his fill and when he was sure that Damien and Nemesis would not resort to a fight (if they would, he would perhaps rejoin the fray to show his own superiority).