Moonspear gone

A friendly face was always welcome, and Sialuk blinked as Bridget came into view. Despite all she had been through recently, Sialuk knew she should not turn away friendship when it was offered. I have not, Sialuk said, eye-balling the rabbit with hungry eyes. She waited for some kind of silent permission from Bridget to divide the rabbit, then went to work tearing it into two roughly equally sized pieces. It wasn't pretty by any means, and the high sage's muzzle and paws were smeared with blood when she was done, but it worked well enough, and she nosed the other half toward the page.

As she began to bite and rip and chew at the meal, she let herself enjoy all the sensations of eating: the taste, the smell, the sound of bones and tendons cracking, and even the sight of the half-rabbit slowly being consumed. She made short work of it even while being mindful of her eating, and she licked her lips in appreciation.

How have you been settling in? she asked, moving to lick her paws free of the smeared remains.