Lost Creek Hollow great, i'd like your $8-est bottle of wine please

Bat went right to work. She wasn't a hunter by trade, though her small game skills were passable and it seemed like the directest way to give back. Each and every kill, from the plump field mouse to the decidedly less plump ground squirrel, was dropped off in the hollow's caches. She only ate one out of every few kills to keep herself sustained. Every time she made a deposit, some of the guilt lifted from her shoulders.

She knew about the new pups in a vague sort of way, though Bat didn't dare think she was welcome to pay them a visit. She did want to bring this fat rabbit to the nursing mother, though, and came close enough to hear and smell the goings-on at the den. Bat's left ear twitched in response to a loud squeak and she smiled around the carcass dangling from her mouth.