Bearclaw Valley With the thrill of a kill, vengefully, the engine will

The leg proved to be an ineffectual plaything; Lucas swung his head up a little too quickly and it fell apart, leaving only a scrap on his tongue while the rest scattered into the sky. The pup spat it out and laboured to rub his tongue over the thick fur on his chest, ridding himself of the remains and the taste alike. By then, Piper had taken a piece for herself and was fiercely shaking it.

A brief well of competitiveness rose up in his chest, but was quick to settle once more. He was only competitive in the sense of being a wolf and a predator, born to compete with others. As a person, he wasn't one to invite himself to someone else's belongings without consent, so though his eyes longingly followed the vole as Piper whipped it back and forth, he didn't barge in to tussle for it. Instead he waddled back to the cache, stooped down and dragged out a small bird that was much fresher than the leg he found before.

This, he proceeded to try to toss like Piper had, but it didn't go nearly as high. Being round as Lucas was did have some draw backs, like having a fat neck against which to bounce the back of his head, hindering his throwing momentum.