Whitebark Stream fazbear pizza

He was starving, too. The only thing Tammak had managed to snare over the past few days was a rabbit (a malnourished one, at that). Table scraps for a growing boy. His normally-gaunt frame was emaciated; his stomach gurgled more often than not, and it was beginning to sound angrier and angrier: like a mother bear, whose cubs had been disturbed.

The cur drifted along the banks of the river, panting slightly. Though autumn had descended upon the Teekon Wilds, he had come from the north, and the change to the overall climate was taking its toll on Tammak. He was half-tempted to toss himself headlong into the river; perhaps would have done so, if he knew the current wouldn't tug his scrawny form under.

Heedless of the company he kept, he trotted closer to the other's log-den, the rotting wood and water smells masking the scent of another wolf.