Blackfoot Forest A canopy of shivers

When Vires invited Pied to take her den for the night, the piebald yearling shook her head vehemently, yet the other she-wolf didn't seem to notice. She busied herself scraping out a shallow nearby. "That really isn't necessary..." Pied said, yet let her voice trail off there. She didn't want to be rude and she could see that Vires was already settling into her temporary nest.

Pied wasn't quite ready to bed down for the night. Although not that hungry for the moment—the cold possum meat sat heavily in her belly—she felt restless. She wanted to keep talking to Vires, especially since she hadn't seen much of anyone lately and craved company. But she didn't want to disturb the other female's rest, so she turned her attention to Mag instead.

When her eyes clapped upon the figure perched next to the magpie, Pied experienced a sensation like a dollop of cold, wet jelly hitting square between her shoulder blades and sliding down her spine. She shuddered. There was a wolf pup stretched out on the limb beside the bird, looking right at home despite the height. It might have been a humorous or endearing sight, if not for the fact that the pup had evidently been brutally mauled. In a macabre twist, its tongue lolled from its muzzle in a puppyish grin.

Swallowing, Pied let her eyes drop. Her stomach pinched and she made a conscientious effort to keep the half-digested possum from creeping up her throat. Even with her face turned away from it, she could still see the puppy's torn face, slashed throat and other horrible wounds. It had clearly been murdered, either by another wolf or by some other large predator. And though it no longer felt pain, Pied felt wretched just for having seen it.

Eventually, her two-toned gaze crept reluctantly upward again. She saw that Mag was pecking lightly at the puppy, as if trying to get it to to play. The sight made Pied's lips twist. She continued watching as the magpie grabbed one of the pup's torn ears in her beak and tugged at it, then presumably squawked (Pied heard nothing but saw the bird's beak moving frantically) and flapped away before the dead whelp could retaliate.

In the meantime, Pied had momentarily forgotten about her living company and was unaware of how she must look, gaping stupidly at the tree branch overhead.