Moonspear titles are hard ok

He glut himself upon the hare until the feeling of nausea overwhelmed his strong hunger, and with a violent twist he scrambled atop the roots and ducked his head, upending his stomach. Out came the fresh meat, some chewed and some torn but all thick with bile and mixed with the blood of the animal; the steaming pile of vomit scattered from his parted lips and splattered against the soil, leaving him empty. He had eaten too much too fast and now paid the price.

The scent of bile flooded his nose; it burned in his sinuses too, and soon the boy was gagging and coughing on it, but the spasm passed quickly enough. He licked at his muzzle as he withdrew from the roots, feeling the sting on his underside from where he'd scraped his belly against the bark in his haste—and as he came down, he slipped in the exposed vicerae of the rabbit, almost falling. He was so awkward, and unclean.

The boy settled near to the dead thing but didn't try to eat any more, watching as the body cooled, feeling the rumbling of his upset stomach as if it were a voice telling him, 'You stupid piece of shit.' His ears slanted like little horns atop his head, and when he grew too tired of watching the meal he could not eat, he turned—spotting the dark silhouette of the queen suddenly. Out of habit (even if it were outdated) he ducked his head, scooted his tail closer to his haunches... omega.