Ouroboros Spine My head is bloody, but unbowed.

His belly had not been so full in a long time, for although Kodiak had taken time to eat on his journey, that time had been minimal. He fed on the nearest, quickest thing, fresh or long since dead, and ate only enough to fuel him on the next leg of his track. By choice, he was among the last to eat, for he endeavored to establish himself and assess his packmates before competing for better status.

He, too, slept when he had eaten his fill, and was about to rise and patrol when a vigilant eye caught his dark Alpha moving toward the moose once more. Kodiak knew she would be caching the rest of the meat, for she certainly could not be hungry, and so chose instead to assist. When he caught up to her, she had already taken a large chunk between her teeth.

Wordlessly he passed her, with his head lowered and his rugged body brushing lightly against her. It was an affectionate gesture, not in the loving sense but in the sense of unity between them, for they were Tartok, and Tartok was a family that spanned the branches; it did not matter that he had just been accepted into this division. But there was another reason for it: one Tonravik may or may not infer. Kodiak had sought to take her scent upon his coat, and more so to leave his on hers.

He approached the carcass, making short work of tearing another chunk from it, and then followed the Alpha to where it was to be cached.