Shadewood the night of long fangs

Smokestep watched his sister as she plucked the hare from the earth and snapped it in half, swallowing her portion without pause. The other half was tossed toward him and he bent his neck to scoop it into his mouth, chewing against the tough sinew and victual with a sickening gulp. Their hunger had been sated for a short time and this would allow them to continue covering land for the ocean. The wayfarer was certain that they would not have too far to go before they would reach their home; he could feel it in his bones. It was a familiar ache and one that would not be satisfied until he had been washed clean by the salty waters.

Flicking his tail upward, Smokestep gestured with his muzzle for their next direction. With no need for words, the pallid brute began at a trot. The brazen gait set the tone for the remainder of their travels. Terrain passed them by until they were forced to come to a halt for rest. The next day would bring them closer to their goal and closer to claiming their home once more.