Redhawk Caldera steady and hold tight

The famine had taken its toll on Whip: both physically and psychologically. This gnawing hunger, the pain, the yearning for sustenance -- it twisted his mind in such a way that the pup's burgeoning predatory intinct was shoved to the forefront of his personality. This would have been fine if Whip had an outlet and could hunt like a proper adult. He ate what was provided to him and his siblings, but it was hardly enough. Chained by the trappings of youth, Whip was unable to change his situation. It frustrated the child to no bounds.

With every passing day Whip's hunger grew, and in turn, so did his aggression. Passing murmurs in his stomach became growls, and soon it twistied into painful knots. While once warm and friendly, Whip soon found himself increasingly angry, snippy, and snide with an empty stomach. 

Remaining near the rendezvous site (as he was too scared to venture away after the swarm), Whip turned at the dust with his tiny muzzle in the hopes that he would turn up one of the locusts that had stripped the land bare. They tasted foul, but Whip would eat anything if it meant quelling the pain in his stomach. He found nothing.

However, he soon caught a combination of scents as the breeze turned in his direction. Eljay -- and something else. He pulled his face from the ground and perked his ears forward in the direction of the approaching youth. In his mouth, Whip saw the limp body of a fox and his mouth began to salivate. This would be his prize -- somehow the fox woul be his.

As Eljay approached, Whip simply stared: eyes glued tightly to the fox he carried.