Swiftcurrent Creek yiron

The sharp pain of the quill was removed—a sweep of her tongue and she moved back. He moved back to the carcass—not missing the stink-eye of the youth and remaining unaffected by it. A paw lifted, rubbing his cheek with the back of his wrist before nudging gingerly at the carcass—beginning to slice open the belly.

“Haven't seen a kid with that description,” he offered, pulling out the meat and innards—his tongue sweeping over his lips once more. A pointed look given to the glaring youth. “What does your father look like?”

He continued the cleaning of the carcass—he wanted the quills and possibly the hide—and when done, he picked up the remains of the porcupine, nudging it behind him and stepping back to the pile of meat presented to mother and son. “Please, take it. You’ll need energy to continue your search.”