Deepwood Weald we can't all sing in our cages

Having a rabbit for a meal after long weeks on maintaining oneself with rodents, rotten remnants of flesh and hide, old bones and occasionally on deer-food, can feel like eating in a five-star restaurant. Birk certainly felt the same elation and excitement, when he settled down and placed the fresh kill between his paws. Still warm and smelled yummy!

The man did not have to be told twice, he tore the carcass open and gobbled the food down not caring much to chew it. Soon he was munching and crunching on the fragile bones and then there was only the head left. He had picked it up and was about to crush it between his jaws, when a movement not far off caught his attention. With the bloody rabbit head still in his mouth (and ears dangling from one side of it), he went on to investigate.