Lost Creek Hollow blackbird song is over now

And it would have seemed that it did not take much to get her to cave in and partake. He found himself thankful for that minor note, though there was a long road ahead of her yet. Of her wounds he found her shoulder the most worrying; it was purely from a standpoint of necessity. A bum shoulder meant a lot of things for a wolf and if it was one thing their numbers would need as the weather continued to warm it was able hunters. They needed their guardians, though as it were Mordecai knew that their numbers were poor shape to hold such a sweeping sprawl. His own patrols had been cut effectively, though they had diminished with winter's end to begin with.

He let her take some of her own fill before stepping in to tear it apart better. He tried to distribute it evenly but that was a task left better for a better and more precise mouth. He was not a picky eater in the slightest, and what he took was consumed readily. Mordecai was no nursemaid either; his bedside manners could have probably done with some lightening up with the way he once again nudged forth what he didn't take.

"Save it for later if you don't want it now," he suggested.