Ouroboros Spine I was three days on a drunken sin

With a wrench of his jaws the neck had been snapped. Raimo thought to remove the head and discard it, however, he chose at the last moment to use the limp neck as a handle. The bird hung from his grip and splayed out its wings.

The shadows distorted his shape for a moment but as he moved beyond the bushes, to a gap of winterlight, Raimo tossed the bundle down where it sank against the snow again. He had half a mind to begin cleaning it now, plucking the feathers.

Instead he regarded the shape of it in apparent silence, but one ear twisted towards where Kukutux lurked and observed. Raimo did not know where she was in earnest but the scent of wolf had grown considerably since the felling of the bird — he had to suspect someone would have noticed him by now.

Are you hungry? Raimo calls out. He appears to be talking to the ptarmigan. His voice carrying across the snow to the surrounding trees.