Blackfeather Woods Night of the Living Dead

They took their time, a devilish smile always painted across Damien's face as they mentally tortured their catch before finally slitting his throat. He'd been hard to pin down, Damien would give that to him. He was a fighter, a survivor, but hardly a match to Kove's and Damien's powerful bodies. Coyotes rarely were - if ever.

They took their time to bring it back home too, but arrived just in time to feast on it with the rest of the pack. Damien had told Kove not to forget the head, which he'd removed himself with joy, but he was to bring the body himself. The Alpha, The powerful Dark Master. He didn't need help to drag the weight, or at least that was what Damien had said.

Colorless eyes scanned silently around after dropping the body with the rest of the offerings, and each of his subordinates was addressed with a polite nod. Then he took the closest spot to Cicero he could afford. In fact, he could afford any spot, he was the boss after all, and so he lay down right next to his brother, brushing his side against him, feeling his warmth, but focused on licking the blood off his paws instead of greeting him. They were long past greetings.