Blackfeather Woods I'm done with having dreams

His eyes and the tips of his ears quivered with anticipation from the first bite Cicero took. After his unsuccessful upward lung, the boy remained poised on his toes, half-crouched and swaying every now and again as if he forgot that his body was even there. Spittle gathered in the corners of his lips. He licked it away absently, and his short tail twitched sharply when Cicero's narrow muzzle descended.

It took no time at all for Ramsay to fall upon the chewed meat. He displayed for perhaps the first time to someone other than his litter mates the difficulty in having such a short spine and neck: he could not reach down for the meat with his forelegs straightened, or even slightly bowed. Ramsay instead had to lower the entire upper half of his body, pressing his chest to the mess on the floor and smearing it into his fur, in order to reach it with his limited range of motion.

He chewed noisily, all the while bathing his elbows and belly in it just so that he could eat it.