Kintla Flatlands and you always knew the way to bring me down

The bird died quickly, painlessly. A clean kill. With his conquest hanging limply by the neck in his jaws, Whip felt a simple satisfaction. With every meal, he bought himself time; and time was the most valuable resource of all.

When the adreneline wore off, Whip noticed the wolf a few paces away and he met her eye. "Mhm," he mumbled unceremoniously without dropping his prey. "'ey." She had a cross expression that reminded Whip of his mother -- in fact, most of her reminded him of his mother. She had the same coat. Even the bone structure of her face was similar to Fox. It was like he was looking a sibling he never knew, despite having no relation to the stranger in the slightest. It didn't phase him much.

He dropped the bird and placed a paw on its outstretched, back-bent wing. He tore both feather and flesh away from the body in a jerking motion. "Was this yours?" he asked, chewing with an open mouth.