Broken Antler Fen Cihiro

Valtyr rested his chin on the sandy ground, wondering how dirt would taste and if it would even sate his bottomless hunger. He reflected on what that old wolf, Palestrike, had taught him about catching the rabbit with a tag-team method. What other hunting techniques had he missed out on? In fruitful times, Val was an okay hunter, but the famine truly tested his skills and revealed them to be not-so-pretty. Sloppy, in fact. It wasn't like there were warrens in the Fen, anyway, he resolved. The ground was too soft, too wet, for the hares to build their home. Valtyr grumbled, under his breath as he fantasied about a fatty boar butt for dinner.

Salivating, he heard the paw-steps of another wolf approaching. He knew, by scent, that the newly crowned alpha female approached. His flame-orange ears swiveled before his head turned to face the alabaster woman, thinking about those saucy times when he had first joined Broken Antler Fen. She was hot, and a part of him envied Sebastian, though Valtyr didn't dare to intone that fact in his day-to-day conversation.

"Heyyyy, Pearl," he greeted her, still prone on the lake's beach. She asked, probably out of courtesy, how everthing was going. "Yeahhhhhhnnnoooooo," he drawled, good spirits quickly sapped by the famine. He so wanted to give her a positive answer, but it was challenging to act blithely unconcerned in these meager times. They were past saving face.

"Ugh, I dunno, Pearl," Valtyr groaned as his head sagged, "I've never seen it as bad as this. Anywhere." His sooty muzzle twisted in a frown. "I went far North - past Moonspear - and there wasn't a lick of big game to be found. No tracks... nuthin'. All I could bag was that measly rabbit." The Fen's topology didn't lend itself well to big game, to begin with. Only Moose really visited the wetlands in good numbers, and there was none to be found. "It's not looking good," he added dismally.