Otter Creek I’m a wandering soul, Traveling a well worn road

He wasn't that hungry. But he heard she was. He gave a firm nod and stretched out his toes. Nose finding thr pulse point on Anselm. He was still alive.

Though he wasn't hungry it felt rude to say no so he took his half and tore it in two. Burying the smaller more supple bites aside.

'e be needin' dem later. Even if the sea born boy had to force feed the mountain born boy.