Redtail Rise Peanut butter on Triscuits and I'm not even stoned

Quirky was just one of many, many words that could be used to describe Smash. She couldn't sleep unless she was covered in leaves, for instance, and she had some peculiar tastes when it came to actual food as well. This morning's breakfast was a perfect example. She had discovered a dead newborn fawn just beyond Redtail Rise and dragged the tiny corpse back into the territory. She had butchered it, stashing most of the meat but claiming its little head all for herself. This she had carried to a stream to soak.

That's where she sat now. After giving the head about an hour to marinate in the cold water, Smash towed it back into the shore and then dove into her meal. There was just something about soaking wet, cold meat that made her tongue tingle. She bolted down every last scrap, including the brain, which had the consistency of cold, clotted jelly. Once all the flesh was gone, Smash then set about licking and gnawing on the miniature skull, which she intended to keep as a combination decoration and chew toy.