Ouroboros Spine I was three days on a drunken sin

The man busied himself with cleaning his kill. It was not going to be satisfying for long, but it was warm, and it was fresh. A nice change from a belly filled with snow. As Raimo worked his ears pivoted, listening for signs of life around him. He did not look up.

Eventually the hidden woman was tempted out from where she lurked. Still, he did not look up. The ptarmigan rustled as he worked his way down one side of the breast, then up the other, building a pile that danced around him.

When he deigned to take a break, he glanced over to the woman to see how she fared. The look on her face was a curious one; Raimo was not accustomed to being feared and he found he disliked the feeling it gave him. Judging from the woman's condition and estimating her age, he had been right in his assumption — not a sister, but a mother.

Why do you look at me that way? He finally asked. Raimo had an ear turned to listen for a reply but he was soon distracted by the ptarmigan before him, and began to peel meat away from the bones.