Haunted Wood never make a change

For my poop-poop-Emaleeeeeeeee ♥ Set early morning.

An audible crunch resonated through the darkly wooded territory, swallowed by the plethora of trees that held an awkward silence. Large molars worked the aged bone with disinterest, mechanical response prompted by the churn of empty stomach. It seemed a rather canid thing to be lured from boredom by the chomping and gnashing of teeth and the wolf was no exception. Monotonous coat of black tucked nicely into the shadows of the wood, a blanket of dampness swathing the undergrowth as it often did before the sun's rise. 

At last the old, calcium riddled bone splintered. Though the insides were dry and fetid, nostrils brushed over each little pinnacle of the abandoned husk, painting a picture of the surface in mind's eye. It was a flippant attempt to keep knowledge keen and often a default habit from years of crazed instruction. Tongue softly braised the surface, sampling the distinct flavor of the creature it once belonged to before decaying out in the emptiness. It wasn't appropriate to simply eat one's food. Not by the laws of the Speakers, in any event. 

A faint inhale drew in the various dialogue the object delivered. It exposed what had perhaps slain the creature and those that had dined on the flesh prior to its demise to the forest's forgotten floor. At last incisors scratched against the slimy marrow, or what little it actually possessed, feeling an emptiness within the wolf's core that had not been there prior to sampling the wares.