Barrow Fields Something with blood.

He studied their reaction, wondering if he'd overdone it. Two of the birds were quick to scatter, soon out of reach. But the third was slower. Or, Val was faster. The wolf was quick to take the opportunity, and in a flash, the two turned into a clucking blur of fur and feathers. 

The turkey emerged looking worse for wear, his wings decorated with loose feathers, which dropped behind him as he made his break for freedom, oblivious to the old wolf working to intersect his path. 

Pepper's legs carried him quickly as he charged toward the turkey, who had since begun flapping his wings. The efforts to gain lift were interrupted when old yellowed teeth gripped firmly into the meaty wing, biting down hard while the rest of the wolf's body caught up, plowing into the turkey and rolling the two with little grace across the frozen ground. 

He pulled to his feet and found the slim neck of the frightened turkey. Using his mouth once more, he bit down and shook until he felt the fragile bone between his jaws give in. Death wasn't immediate, but it was inevitable now. The old wolf let go and stepped back, panting deep breaths as he searched for his companion.