Deepwood Weald we can't all sing in our cages

Caged. The shewolf's chest was too small for her heart to beat inside - each pump of blood made her throat feel tight, but Mannoah had never cried. Not since she was a tiny thing, too young to remember what it was to be vulnerable; to feel it. She'd been raised with the belief that growing up meant growing out of vulnerability when the opposite was true. To grow was to accept it.

To be alive is to be vulnerable.

(Well, then, she must have been doing something else.)

The dark shewolf paced through the woods, hating the way the trees closed in above her even as she refused to venture back out onto the beach. She'd passed dirt and field and wildflower to get to this place, but none of it was home to her. There was no home for the wolf that she'd become.

Her belly swelled. Her eyes blazed. Her chest tightened.

Mannoah stalked on.

Having a rabbit for a meal after long weeks on maintaining oneself with rodents, rotten remnants of flesh and hide, old bones and occasionally on deer-food, can feel like eating in a five-star restaurant. Birk certainly felt the same elation and excitement, when he settled down and placed the fresh kill between his paws. Still warm and smelled yummy!

The man did not have to be told twice, he tore the carcass open and gobbled the food down not caring much to chew it. Soon he was munching and crunching on the fragile bones and then there was only the head left. He had picked it up and was about to crush it between his jaws, when a movement not far off caught his attention. With the bloody rabbit head still in his mouth (and ears dangling from one side of it), he went on to investigate.

Her wandering went on unchecked until the scent of blood reached her nose. She'd not eaten, but the wolf was not hungry. It seemed as though she was never hungry anymore. Still, her nature dictated that she investigate, and try to make off with the meal if she could. Mannoah liked to have things; liked to have other wolves' things.

She changed directions and came swiftly face-to-face with another wolf. He must've heard her, she realized, must've decided to do some investigating himself.

"Hola," she murmured, her voice hollow and scratchy and unsure. Now that she was in another wolf's presence, she was not as sure about her decision to steal the meal away. Why bother?

"H-rhla, hrha - phewwww!" Birk gave up the effort to talk with his mouth full and therefore spat the rabbit head out. It made a nice little arc in it's flight and landed not far from the other wolf's feet. The man furrowed his brow, while looking at it's location, wondering, if he should grab it back or leave it there, and then deciding that - whatever - he had had his fill. Let the other have that head, if she was hungry. 

"I will try again, okay?" the white wolf asked with wagging tail. "Hey! Great to meet you - may I know your name?"

As soon as the food fell before her, Mannoah felt her stomach clench. She snatched it away and chomped it greedily into manageable pieces. It took only a few swift seconds before it was completely gone, and Mannoah licked gristle off her whiskers as she peered toward the pale stranger.

"Mannoah," she replied, not quite understanding him beyond hey - a greeting - but assuming he would want her to introduce herself. "E tu?"

And - man - that wolf was hungry. With a capital letter even. The head, which Birk had left for the last, because the skull was quite hard to crush, disappeared in the other's mouth in one, two, three bites? Making Birk wonder, what would have happened, had it been his paw and not the rabbit's head there. 

"Birk," he replied and took a tentative step back, in case the wolf was dangerously hungry and would consider him as his next meal. "Where are you from?" better keep the other as distracted as possible.

Having finished her meal, Mannoah cast her gaze around the other wolf, wondering if there was anything else left for her to eat. It seemed, though, that the food was entirely gone; she would have to find something on her own. The wolf, too, appeared to tire of her presence. He took a step away, warier now.

Even if there was more food, Mannoah doubted he would be sharing any with her. None of his words seemed to hint at that, but she was not familiar with the tongue they used, here. He could be saying anything, including threats.

Mannoah let out a little growl, hoping to encourage him on his way so that she did not have to be the one to retreat. She was at loathe to leave her flanks vulnerable to this wolf, especially in her frail condition.

"Not talkative, huh?" Birk regarded the lass curiously, then averted his gaze and sat down to make clear that he was in no way inclined to cause trouble. He was generally a pacifistic fellow and rarely started or got into fights. He thought that getting injured was a foolish and idiotic way to spend the precious energy one could use for... for finding food as one example. 

"So - do you have a name or should I name you?" he asked again, while looking at some trees in the distance.

The other did not reply either and scampered off, before Birk managed to ask anything else. "Huh? That was weird," he shrugged, shook his head and went away.