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Pied decided that she couldn't bear the ambiguity anymore. When morning came, she would howl in the hopes of rallying what was left of Bon Dye. Depending on who responded—if anyone showed up at all—she would figure out where to go from there. She simply couldn't stand being in limbo like this. Her life was literally in the balance. Her grandmother, March Owl, would've said it was time to shit or get off the pot.

Thinking of her grandmother brought a smirk to Pied's face, though it faded quickly as she stalked the nighttime forest. Too hungry to sleep, she hoped to scavenge food of some sort, even if it meant feeding on rats if it came down to it. She had feasted upon insects the other day; she wasn't above anything at this point. Her stomach pinched and she grimaced slightly in preparation for the savage growling which commenced.

Suddenly, she heard something scurrying toward her through the underbrush. Pied halted, her ears pricking and nose tipping into the chilly air. She quickly realized that it was one of the forest's resident foxes trotting along. She wondered at its boldness, as it seemed to be making no effort to disguise its footfalls on the crunching leaves. It thinks the wolves are gone, Pied realized with a sinking feeling.

Brushing this sentiment aside, she pivoted and prepared to dash after the fox once it came near enough to give chase. Of course, she didn't realize that there was competition skulking hot on the fox's heels, much more silent, predatory and deadly than the mischievous red creature itself...