Firefly Glen chef's out, kick it in

He had to find more food. The situation was growing more desperate by the day. Tye did not want to be reduced to the next meal shared among Moonspear, torn to pieces by the pack which had saved him (sort of). The image of Hydra's brood tearing strips of meat from his bony legs, or making a game of tug-o-war out of his knobby spine, gave rise to a stronger sense of insomnia within Tye. He became hyper-vigilant in his waking hours.
In short, he was one of the most stressed out, unhealthy messes in the Wilds - and that's saying something.
Today (at least last he checked it was daytime, but it shifted to night so easily, and all of it bled together --) he had descended from the mountain with the intention of hunting in the lowlands. It never entered his mind that he could flee now, escape the Moonspear wolves and his position as their omega. If he did that he'd surely starve to death, at least this way he might be working hard for his meals, but there were meals.
The glen surrounded him. He couldn't recall when he'd entered it or how long he'd been patrolling through it, scouring every inch of the forest floor for scents; he moved like a zombie, dragging his heels, or skittering from shadow to shadow like a spider, focused and desperate. The scent of rabbit eventually hit his nose - rabbit, and blood. The boy swiftly adjusted his course so that he could find that thing, whatever, wherever it was... And came across the path of a wolf.
They were ahead of him, moving at a clip between the trees and heading north. Betwixt their teeth was a limp rabbit; the sight of it made Tye's mouth water, his heart race. He tried to sulk closer as calmly and quietly as possible but the scent drove the malaise from him and he was far less from subtle as he came upon the stranger, eyes wide and fixed upon the carcass.