Lost Creek Hollow In the dead of Night

Crunch.
Juice, or perhaps blood, ran down the body of the slippery animal into his mouth, which made him drool. He pulled playfully at it while Sorscha had its head between her teeth, effectively decapitating it. For virtually any other animal, this would indeed have been a gruesome scene and warranted a strong warning for those outside of the world of wolves. As it was, Taikon had a headless fish all to himself, which he stepped backward with and lay down to enjoy peacefully.
Thanks, he said, pleased that their little hunt had gone smoothly enough. A good chunk of time had passed, but they had been rewarded with fatty, fresh fish. As Taikon ate, he occasionally made choking faces when tiny bones would slide down his throat. In little time, he managed to pry most of the flesh from the trout and have it safely stored in his stomach. All that was left behind was part of a tail and the core of its skeleton.
It wasn't a heavy meal, by any means, but it would satiate the two lone wolves for some time yet at least. So, what's next for you then? Had she a pack nearby, or was she on her own like he was? He wondered what her plan was.