Blackfeather Woods Ours is a cycle of hatred

They rushed to him, and he laughed at their eagerness. He wished he could remember the feeling, of watching his mother or his uncles come down the slope of the Glen with food on their lips. But it was too far away, and his mind had changed and matured several times in his lifespan.

The black-footed girl hobbled over to him, rearing up to nudge at his muzzle. He gently pushed her away, waiting for her brother to move to him- oh. The boy was on his back, left there by his sister after their wrestling bout. He watched with curiosity as the neckless boy rolled from his back, using the momentum of his legs to move his body from his back to his paws once more. Ganon's tail thumped. Rijes aōt!

The boy didn't let the hurdle stop him, and soon enough Ganon felt the boy nudging harshly at his chest. Alright alright okay. Jeez, kiddos, He didn't blame them for their eagerness. His mother was somewhere tucked away, ignoring them. He lowered his head, letting them poke and prod at the corner of his lips. Then he felt it: wait...wait...there!

The steaming chunks of rabbit fell from his mouth and plopped onto the floor, hot and ready to eat. Ganon licked his chops, the acid burning his throat slightly. He stepped back, letting the kids run eat as they pleased. He sat back, watching them swarm. But after a few seconds, he remembered something — Ain't there a third one of you? He asked them, though he knew they wouldn't answer. Even if they could speak, they would be too busy eating to answer.