Northstar Vale not an answer to be heard

AW but maybe a diaspora wolf?

He's become rather thin these last few weeks, taken by some sort of depression as winter's claws sink further into the land. His typically brilliant silver coat is scraggly and perhaps not the cleanest it has ever been, and his legs and pads are riddled with small cuts and scrapes, many beginning to fester with infection. The young Corten has certainly seen better days than this, and predictably his mood has grown as sour as his condition. It isn't fair, he often thinks at the end of the day, when his pads ache and sting and his stomach protests painfully. It isn't fair that he suffers, he who has only ever tried to be good and kind and has only ever been cast aside; he deserves better.
It is this anger that surfaces with a fierce toss of its ugly head when a sharp pain cuts through him midway through a rare meal and he realizes he can eat no more, surging through him suddenly and hotly. He exhales sharply, jaws tightening into the rabbit he'd worked so hard to obtain and reaching for some semblance of patience; the calm only lasts a moment. It's not fair, he thinks in fire and hot sticky copper, slamming the cooling carcass into the snowy earth with an irritable toss of his head. Blood splatters and bits of gory snow fly in opposite directions as he repeats the action, fighting the urge to vomit what little he's managed to swallow. The rabbit is unrecognizable when he finally tires of beating the poor dead thing to a pulp, a bloody mass with only a few identifying patches of white among the gore and bone. He doesn't regret it; he can't eat the stupid thing anyway. His stomach still hurts.