Firefly Glen chef's out, kick it in

There was a moment of fine clarity in Markus. It would never have been considered genius because, as anyone detached from the situation could have pointed out, Markus had been told as much. The realization was simple. They wanted his food, he knew that. The key was the one who was meant to take it. He had focused squarely on the alpha female because he did not like - no, hated - her. But it was not her that was set to take the meal, it was the other. She had said so and he had ignored it - heard her tell the omega but not listened.

He was listening now. 

His teeth scraped uncomfortably along protruding rib bones - a grotesque feeling making its way up his teeth, like nails on a chalk board. He would have shuddered in a different situation. The clarity refocused his attention but Markus was a fighter neither by trade nor inclination. His mind when static-like again as this time, he lunged forward with all his strength at the smaller, weaker male. He meant to bowl him over, smash him into the ground and tear at him with his teeth - anywhere they would meet. But, something caught his leg and pulled him up short. It was her, again. Pain and hate coursed through him as he stumbled, feeling her teeth in his flesh. A choked snarl escaped his lips as he grabbed for the rabbit with a forelimb, pulling it toward him - underneath him. At the same moment, he turned on the female again, twisting so as to land on his side and bite at her face, her eyes, her nose - anything.