Hushed Willows In a long black veil she cries over my bones.

The hunger felt as if it were a separate entity from herself. Something that she hosted, like a parasite, which grew and grew - not unlike a child, she thought. The conditions that the marauder's faced would only get worse, so it was best she use every available moment to eat, no matter the source. Octavia was on her feet and standing over the body of her first-born while Tambourine had been left (briefly) to fend for himself in the corner. The bone she had been worrying with her teeth lay discarded a few steps between. Just as Octavia began to descend open-mouthed towards the distorted and rotted face of her own child, she heard the scuffling of claws upon the cave floor.

So she turned sharply from the bundle of fetid remains, nudging them back in to the dark with a hind paw, and faced the corridor which joined her small whelping den to that of the main Crook — idly wishing the stranger at the door would leave so she could dine in peace, guilt-free. Having a witness only made things worse. Octavia did not know who it was, only that they barked and the sound slid like water through the cave. Octavia glanced to her sleeping baby and felt a fresh wave of anger roll up from her empty belly, which she turned heatedly upon whoever was at the entrance.

Keep it down, she whisper-hissed as she passed by Tambourine, ducking her head slightly so that she could fit in to the corridor. There, she was faced with Grace of all beings, and the girl was holding on to something. What is it? she shot at the girl, venting her many emotions on her since she was the only wolf nearby at the time. Octavia was impatient and hungry, and the image of her child's remains were more tempting than a simple conversation with a nosy packmate.