Serpent Lake when i die let the wolves enjoy my bones

Tweed had taken to following the ravens. Where the birds went, he followed. It meant food. At least enough to get him by another hour, day, perhaps even another week. He was little more than skin and bones at this point, but he pressed on. His green eyes were dull with fatigue as he approached the ruckus of crows and the lingering figure that was also there to feast. Tweed knew better than to pick a fight, and so he hung back. Eventually, he thought, the other wolf would have to move on. It was then that he would gorge himself on what little was left of the carcass.

His mouth was dry, his eyes hungry, but he restrained himself. The wolf in front of him was in better health as far as he could tell, and Tweed wouldn't waste his energy on a fight that was already lost.