Alpine Lake for merely dreaming we were snow

All good!

He grabbed at least part of it, warmth flooding over his tongue in a shower of violent red. Sable swallowed reflexively, his stomach giving a fierce growl at the taste of blood. But the other half of the animal was held by Masque, her grip fiercer than his.

Then, she caught his eye, and around the leg in his mouth he grinned. Quickly, he moved to adjust his grip, getting a better one than just a leg. With the butt firmly in his mouth and his tail wagging, Sable sneezed playfully, before wrenching his head back in a sharp tug. Which he would continue, until sinew and tendons and flesh split and he wound up on his rear, half of the beaver in his mouth.