Duck Lake what do you see

Aguta didn't start eating right away. Had he been clearheaded, Goldry would have asked her why. But she joined him eventually, respecting his space as she tore into the hind end of the doe, and he didn't give it another thought.

Somewhere in the thickening darkness, two crows cawed in the trees. The wolves' meal would not be theirs alone much longer.

Goldry ate the heart and lungs, but left Aguta the liver and kidneys. He then braced himself against the pronghorn, planting both forepaws on its side and ripping its hide from the front half of its torso, exposing the fatty shoulder beneath. Goldry devoured it. Then he ate along the doe's spine toward Aguta, but his body stiffened and his hackles bristled the nearer he came, until he moved back to the front of the kill before any violence could erupt between them. There, he nosed between the doe's shoulder blades, tearing the meat from its neck, its trachea, and finally its tongue.

By the time the fog in his mind started to clear, Goldry had returned to the doe's chest while a pair of crows pecked at the thing's eyes. He was gnawing on the ribs, but he stopped, licked his chops, and for the first time, his nose detected something out of place. Blood; Aguta's blood. His ears flicked up and he glanced warily in her direction. “You're hurt,” he said in a slow, gravelly voice. He cleared his throat. “Are you... okay?”