Witch's Marsh ach, ich bin des Treibens müde!

balanced comfortably atop a fallen willow, thus far saved from rot and decay, the wolf works at the remains of a muskrat. it had been a tricky catch; only by staking out one of its nests and striking swiftly upon its return did she manage to secure this meal. careful to swallow down each sinew, the wolf was markedly determined to make the most of it. 

a jay called overhead, impatient with her. coal gaze flickered once to it as it swept overhead, but paid the scavanger no mind as she swallowed the last of her meal.

@Evanora