Raven's Watch your memories wrapped within paper and twine

as he was not a jaguar or a tiger or a fisher cat, he did not have any natural proclivities to water. he definitely didn't have any learned ones, having been cooped up inside for most of his life. so he very patiently waited out the rain high in the mountains. unfortunately, that meant little to eat. he managed to find some scraps — once a whole leg that he wrestled from some large brown rabbit — but those only managed to keep him from true starvation. he spent most days very hungry.

so it was that he honed in on the scent of fresh blood being spilled at the edges of the mountains on a cliff face. he wasn't surprised to see a wolf hunched over the source. there were plenty of wolves around here. he was confused by the piles of plants around the little carcass that the wolf had acquired.

yoooo, uhhhhh, he licked his lips, the smell of blood setting his stomach on fire. you eatin'? good eats? can i uh, have some? please? he said the last part nicely, with a little mew tinging his words. he hadn't really begged for food in months, and the last time he had was to a naked (hair-wise, his owner wasn't a nudist) bipedal primate. oh cool birb, he said upon seeing the crow, who completed its compatriot's goth aesthetic. sick.