Hideaway Strath Rad dudeski.

He was gone for a little bit longer than intended. It was harder than he thought to track down a stupid little fluffy bunny, but he found a trail eventually and followed it straight to a warren; though he was small and a bit of a spitfire, he wasn't tiny enough to wedge his head in to the burrow he found and had to resort to digging, made all the more nasty because of the green slime that had dried to his paws. It was a muddy affair; however, he did manage to get to the central hub with a little bit of elbow grease.

The shrieking of tiny lapine voices as he sliced them to pieces with his teeth, well, that was a chorus he didn't need to hear ever again. Thankfully his companion would not have noticed it - though he was still oblivious to Towhee's broken ears. Once the din of chaos concluded, Dingo took a second to breathe and then picked a few of the bodies to hastily munch, crunch, and consume for himself. He then gathered what remained of the dozen-or-so newborns and hoofed it back to where he'd left Towhee waiting.

Well, mostly. He overshot by about nine feet and emerged from a different angle of the forest, and his mouth was full so he couldn't shout out to her. Dingo approached with all the grace of a flopping fish — trying to make sure she was aware of his approach even if she couldn't see him — and then threw the tiny, bloody bodies at the dirt by her feet, with an obnoxious, BLEHHHH — there ya go!