Sun Mote Copse The father that taught me

Alyx was as ravenous as any young pup, but already there was a bit of a grazing quality to how she ate. She never gorged herself, but often returned two or three times to the same meal in a relatively short period of time, provided it stuck around that long. She was a cluster feeder as an infant and even now, approaching toddler-hood, she preferred smaller but more frequent meals. So almost as soon as she began eating, she finished and waded out of the muck, leaving the remainder for everyone else. For now.

Her interest was set now on Phox—specifically, on his wide grin, which shone pearly even in the murk of the den. She was covered from chin to unmentionables in meat-vomit, but she didn't seem to notice, and she didn't seem to care much when she reared unsteadily on her hind legs and slapped her meaty torso against Phox's leg in a shaky effort to sniff his faraway teeth.