Dawnlark Plains carry me home

@Rana
Anyone (including @French Fry) is welcome to join in on this as well!

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Aside from the one or two occasions where his people ran late from work Big Mac had never really known hunger. But with a solid week of being a 'wild animal' under his belt there was a desperation in his bones...a sense of feral longing that came with being half damned starved to death.
 
He and Fry had managed purely on their collaborated efforts to survive: the Retriever with savaging not yet ripened berries re-growing from the locust plague and the Newfie with his clumsy attempts at fishing. There was success on rare occasions - moments that felt to him more important that even the highest praise from his people - and the two dogs split the meal accordingly. Fry was rapidly slimming and Mac was losing the mass of his muscle; it was with a tender touch that his brother noted a hollow dip in the juggernaut's haunch.
 
Mac staggered deeper into the wildling territory...his eyes wide and trained on even the slightest movement. I need people he thought desperately. Please! A small cry escaped him as his energy depleted and forced him to sit, breathlessly, in some grassless plain for which he had no name.