Firefly Glen [m] revelarlos

He was hungry on the best of days. Now the cloying scent of elk gathers as spittle in his jowls. A passing tongue clears half, the rest puddles in the dirt at his feet.

She even tries his language.
Damn near broke his heart.

The falcon slinks forward, snatching up a hunk of meat and retreating. He chews crassly, like a grimey sewer rat at a tea party.
Eyeing pretty one. Swallow.
The family next, tall, broad men, and children too, little children at their sides. Swallow.

This was weird.
Elk was good.

He sidles up again for a second helping.