Cedar Sweep i'll follow the sounds of wings

Too little, too late.

Dirge had a momentary wince as the very thing happened. It was a hazard of eating such things, particularly the smaller they were. Bird bomes splintered too easily for his liking, but given the sparse options they had as of late, beggars couldn't be choosers. The she-wolf dispatched of the bone with haste, the glare cast away, and Dirge merely retained his distance beneath the bare boughs.

"Some lessons are better learned the hard way," he went on to say, as though commentary was necessary. She didn't need the narration, but for want of better words he continued. "Catch that one by surprise? Seems it wanted you to know it didn't want to be a meal after all." His gaze set to the bird, all blue and grey and well, bloodied. Too little too late indeed.