Big Salmon Lake And the grass all smells the same

The subdued praise washed over her, same as the slowing blood. Her senses started to return to her, flickering on one switch at a time. The taste and smell of iron overwhelmed her. The painful throbbing across her body began to strengthen, radiating from nearly every part of her. The palpitation of adrenal fire in her veins reached her consciousness, and she became aware of a low growl in her throat, more gurgle than anything. The fawn’s lifelessness reached her last, belatedly, but still she refused to relinquish her grip.

Wild eyes trained upwards, latching onto the stranger, whose drystone pelt had been darkened with a spatter of black-red. For the briefest of seconds, she wondered what he was thinking behind that dispassionate yellow eye, if she was going to have to fight him for her share. The thought of death trickled in like air from an improperly sealed window, oscillating now with the growing perception of physical pain.

Now is when you reap your spoils.

Needle was then a dog commanded to eat. A basal creature consumed by bloodlust. She could hurt later. She would die another day. She didn’t have time for all that right now.

Hunger called.

She began to scarf down what she already had in her mouth, not caring that the belly would’ve been a far better choice to start. She tore ravenously into the carcass, teeth clacking against bone as she chewed through chord and sinew. She smacked greedily, ate blindly. And starvation fizzled, along with her fears.