Hoshor Plains I drink to the last friggin' drop.

Fer me? My lucky day, he murmured, and advanced to where the rabbit was sitting in the grass. Ripped and bloodied, but neatly placed.

He moved to stand over it and licked his lips, then with a lean, reached for it and winced - but grabbed it, tore it; swallowed some without chewing. Pulled it apart like it was made of cotton candy.

He didn't eat all of it, though. A momentary act of charity in reverse, or something. Hey, he called to the weird wolf - c'mere, eat this. I've been on the road too long, right, an' my stomach ain't gonna hold it all.

A little white lie; but he withdrew, leaving the rest for the... He really needed a better name for this thing than tall wolf cryptid thing.