Fairspell Meadow Bon-voyage

Most of the viscera was on its way out. She felt the supple flesh of the liver as it gave to her teeth, and the taste was just starting to turn foul. Stryx gobbled that up and did her best to avoid the spleen, as it had begun to turn solid with desiccation; the blood that ran from the organ was sluggish and tar-like. Signs of rot had flooded her nostrils but this was something else, and Stryx pulled her face free a moment later, gasping for clean air. Tendrils of sinew hung from her teeth. A line of cold fatty tissue was stuck to a tuft of coarse chin fur. Her cheeks looked rosy with a bit of bloody blush.

She felt the body shift, and with a small lift of her head she watched as the child tugged at the entrails. They were the pinkest parts, the healthiest by far, and it was good they went to the little one. Stryx knew her body could break down all kinds of things; but for such a young child to survive, they would need help easing in to the whole meat thing. Did the little fireball even have teeth with which to chew? She was so small.

The woman huffed a breath and turned away - blowing a chunk from her nostrils that was half phlegm and half other, spraying in to the grass and being lost thereafter. She took a greedy breath and sank to her haunches.