Hoshor Plains grocery shopping

@Tomahawk and anyone else that might be inclined to pop in :) I am making some assumptions here.

He was bruised, bitten. The alpha had been keen to beat him, to take every chance to shove the coyote to the ground, to remind him of his place. He was successful; only the place he was reminded of, his true place, was not the one Rakharo believed he had been showing him. No. He was resolute. He submitted, took the aggression with hardly a flick of an ear, unshaken in his resolve to do what he had come to do.

He hunted for her, bringing her rabbits, rodents, and meat from wolf kills. Whatever he could catch or find. He did not go into the den, he left it just inside the entrance for her. When he rested, he rested just outside, a silent sentinel. In fact, his cryptic presence he did not bother her at all with, not even speaking a word to her. He provided, and guarded, and that was all. For now.

This morning was no different. He had managed to catch a roosting partridge unawares and now carried its limp body back to the den, tossing it just inside with a dull thud. Breakfast without fanfare, fresh from the field. He settled to his stomach just in front of the entrance, head laid across his paws.