Emberwood cruel canvas

He watched the female pick over the scattered bones, making no move to get up. Yes, Dovev was hungry, but he would luckily stumble upon something else. Or go without.
No one liked toughing it out on their own. He had made do before, but something about this mild winter was making it different. The elk were stronger, and there weren't enough deaths by hypothermia to satiate Dovev's wanderings. He wanted snow, and mountains of it.


The one known as Iqsi had taken a seat also and was gnawing on a bleached rib. It was a okay name, something ethnic and of a language Dovev may have heard once or twice. He didn't really bother trying to dissect it. In fact, it had a few redeeming qualities: it wasn't difficult to pronounce and wasn't packed full of titles and monikers. And that's the way names should be.

No.

Dovev turned his muzzle to where the hazy winter sky touched the ends of the flatland. I used to- over that away.
Growing a little restless, Dovev threw a glance towards the ebony creature. She was just as ragged as he, with tufts loose by the lack of muscle. Something was a little off-putting about Iqsi, something he couldn't quite tap into. And it bothered him.

And you? he ventured, weariness forming along his cool eyes.