Duskfire Glacier trash to the curb

She followed, though he was aware of her hesitation. If she did not wish to follow, she could have stayed put, but she had made her choice (and continued to make it with each step). He trudged forward through the wind and snow, eyes blinking furiously as he tried to keep them open and on the lookout for the black winged birds that were often the sign of nearby food. They went on like this for a good thirty minutes until Dune finally heard the screech of the creature and saw one of the black beaks circling over something up ahead.

"There," he said, gesturing in the general direction of the scavenger. Below the circling birds was a lump of an object that had once been a deer. It had died of starvation, taken by the cold that had settled in the Teekon Wilds the past several nights. Its eyes were frozen open, much of its entrails had been eaten by the birds, which cawed mercilessly and scattered anxiously as the two wolves approached. The meat was frozen solid, but it was better than nothing. Dune tore off a hunk after much effort, then tossed it to the golden-eyed stranger. No words were needed, for the intention was clear: Eat.

Dune turned his attention back to the frozen deer and began pulling off a strip for himself, gnawing on the hard, frozen flesh. It melted slowly in his mouth, and although it tasted like nothing more than rocks to him, Dune chewed and swallowed.