Broken Antler Fen i'm the best there is at what i do

Sleepless nights had allowed for Howlett to wander into the heartland of wolves. The scent of them was thick on the air and several of the territories he had purposefully skirted to avoid any social interaction. The mutant kept himself well hidden enough until he fell into the fen. It was there – late in the evening – that the hound found a moment of peace. He dropped down to his elbows and then stretched his stomach out against the ground for a reprieve from the time he’d spent on his limbs. With a grunt and an unamused expression, Howlett dropped the thick bone he had carried between his paws and began to work against it with his teeth. He sought ways to keep himself busy, but he’d been on his own long enough to know that he would never return to the base, and the world wasn’t going to attempt to make good with any favors.
 
A few birds cried overhead as they passed. Howlett followed their flight path with a quick glance before they fluttered out of sight and out of mind. Fixating back on the bone, the mutant clutched it between his two front paws and gnawed against the sharpest point. He could feel the jutting of the jagged edge against his lip and gums, but he worked away at it until his mouth bled and his feet had grown tired of holding it in place.