Arrow Lake and he floats outside my prison window

their haul inland was not short; thorn studied the landmarks they passed, though his sharp eye was unnecessary given the gristly tracks they left in their wake. upon finding a suitable spot (one in which thorn silently apprised with an approving glance) he was instructed to turn back for more: obliging, the dark beast neatly pivoted and made back for the half-excavated corpse.

when he returned to the moose he found fox and fowl had made note of its unearthing - with a throaty bellow he plowed through their gathering, sending feather and fur flying. he worked with a frenzied man's urgency, more than once needing to remind the bold vixen to mind her own claim.

upending the water-sodden leg, thorn's teeth cracked and strained until the meaty gristle was separated -- he hauled this ungainly prize back to stigmata, and out of the corner of his eye saw the bright pelage of the fox slip back to the kill.

if she was still there when he returned, thorn vowed to kill her -- but for now, his mouth and efforts were full, and stigmata was expecting him.