Barrow Fields and that is how they grow

he huffs and puffs with each forceful dig of his front paws, heaving up big mounds of sand and dirt, determined ...and encouraged by her chanting. he only stops when he reaches something. he noses at it, smearing dirt across his muzzle as he digs some more: smaller, more precise sweeps of his paws.

issa bone! he declares, tugging it free. a piece of some large beast's ribcage: a deer, perhaps. or some other large ungulate that he is not familiar with. regardless, something larger — despite that it fractured and broke off from the rest — than him at any rate.

lookit! he mumbles 'round it, dropping it between them with a generous amount of slobber coating where it'd been previously held by him.