The Heartwood imperfection's glow

I feels that feel ALMOST CONSTANTLY and it is horrible. D: D:

Her movement through the forest— the snapping of twigs underfoot, the rustling of barren branches against her body— masked the sounds of bone-crunching and meat-tearing that lay directly ahead, else she might have turned yet another way, no matter how desperate she was to talk to someone. Most wolves didn't appreciate when their meals were interrupted, and those without pack affiliations to protect them liked it even less. But there was nothing to be done about that, because here they were.

Whatever Magpie might have expected as a reaction from the stranger, it certainly wasn't the question that followed her own awkward apology. She hadn't eaten that long ago, but hunger was a constant worry for lone wolves— for a moment she considered politely declining, and instead opted to shyly accept. "That's nice of you. I could eat— I mean, if you're all done. You caught it."