Herbalists' Cache Little devil, all alone

Pearly mittens met with soft, yet prickled pine-laden terrain; the scattered quills managing to worm their way betwixt the pawpads of one scrawny little maiden; her frame wracked with evidence of hunger. She'd never been particularly astute at the whole hunting gig, and the occasional field mouse simply wasn't cutting it. She'd find someone else's kill to leech from. In the meantime, the worst of scowls painted delicate features, her mind racing back and forth, back and forth. 

Miserable. miserable, miserable, miserable.

She'd grumble her distaste aloud, for only the trees to hear. One little accident and this was the result. She wouldn't allow her mind to linger for long, for the guilt she buried would rear its head, and she did not wish to be guilty. She wasn't guilty.

She'd come here for a reason, enticed by the feintest of herbal scents; not that she had anything to use them on, but she'd sought some familiarity in her desperation. Like a whelp welcomed home into a soft embrace; it was within the bounds of healing she'd found something comforting. 

Perhaps she'd tear a chunk from her pretty white forelimb; give herself something fun to do!

She'd listen to the yowls of chattering coyotes in the distance, her tattered ears fixed towards every sound on the breeze; if she was lucky, she'd catch the victory howl of another, and frequent the kill once they'd left. Letting out a soft exhale, the silvery wretch weaved through the foliage, until her prayers to no deity in particular had been answered! The soft hide of a hare lay crouched in the distance, prime for the cradle of depraved jaws.

She'd launched into a sporatic scramble, uncooridinated, and ungraceful as one could possibly be; yet she'd managed to end up close to the tail end of her quarry, close enough to get a devastating nip at an outstretched hind leg. A splatter of crimson dotted her muzzle, though she'd fallen short of truly getting the kill as the hare managed to outpace her and disappear into a burrow. Envy would thrash her tail in protest, turning to stomp on a fern and rip the delicate leaves away in a tantrum, her jaws opened to let out an annoyed sneer. 

..I'll wait then! You'll come out. She remarked with exasperation to the empty air, before hunkering herself down directly at the entrance of the burrow, her gaze peering into the muffled darkness. The scent of her contribution still permeating the air of the hare's dank hideaway.