Blackfeather Woods passing by the hills, 'til i hear the name

A lot was going on in the gaze of the dark one, her dark shadow. The spirit hovered over the unmoving limb and watched the dark one. There was a silent 'no' in the gaze, but knowing her dark shadow well enough, the pale youth knew that she would not be moved against. Or at the very least, that the risks were small. Perhaps because behind all of that raw emotion, the dark one also knew that this was the best they could do. This was what the caretaker would have wanted.

Words had never been their forte so without speaking the spirit looked down at her paws and closed her eyes, thanking the spirits around them -- and mostly the spirit of the caretaker -- for providing for them. She made a promise that she would make sure the proper bones were placed upon the altar.

Then without further ado she unceremoniously grabbed one of the hind limbs and started to tear the flesh. She would divide it into smaller portions so that it would not be so oddly recognisable as caretaker or wolf. It would only be flesh, then, and perhaps the shadow would not feel quite so cannibalistic and wrong in taking it for sustenance, then. They could use it to fill caches, so that they would surely last through the coming period of time with no trouble, despite being only them two. For now, tearing off the limb felt strange and wrong, but she knew that it was right in her head and so the spirit continued the task.