Verdigris Ravine muscle

Talisman took a step back, deferring to the man he felt to be his superior. If he wanted the meat, then the yearling wasn’t going to argue. But instead of eating it, he performed an assessment of the dead snake. Talis watched in rapt silence, moving only when it was made clear he should also scent the creature’s anterior.

He recoiled again when Zoug sawed off the head with his teeth. Wasn’t he afraid of getting poisoned? Talis’s lips parted to ask, though before the question could spring off the tip of his tongue, the elder coyote had claimed the cylindrical flesh and disembarked.

The pale yearling looked down at the discarded skin, then back up at Zoug’s retreating figure. He frowned. He had the distinct feeling he’d done something wrong and displeased his elder. Talis had much to learn—and to prove—if he was going to fit in with The Tribe.

Okay, see you, he said to no one, making no move to collect the skin as he turned to go.

But something made him double back and gather it in his teeth. He sensed Zoug wanted him to have it. Trying not to think too hard about what was in his mouth, Talis trotted off to do… something with it. Perhaps he would bury it, like the tribesman had shown him.