Firefly Glen due to an internal explosion, it breaks into two parts

Although not very bright, Yosemite was a quick and eager study. He trotted at Nine's heels and lunged right along with him, thinking that a buzzard would be the perfect addition to his meal — . . . or to Nine's meal, since that had sort of been the deal.

All he managed to come away with, however, were a few feathers and a scratch on the bridge of his nose. He noticed neither now that the birds were cleared away, however, to reveal the contents of their meal:

A single fawn, perhaps only a month old, and only dead for a day or so, by the scent of the exposed flesh. It had been picked at by the buzzards, and apart by a family of foxes, but there was still enough for two wolves to tussle over —

or for one wolf to defer and meekly pick at the leftovers.

Yosemite settled off to the side, lowering himself onto his belly and waiting for Nine to either hurry up and eat or invite him to the meal.