Blackfeather Woods passing by the hills, 'til i hear the name

It did not matter to the spirit whether her shadow would eat or not. The shadow remained, but as the body started to resemble the caretaker less and less and became more and more just pieces of meat, eventually the shadow took a step forward to take a piece. The spirit, too, quenched her initial hunger since the pack had been ripped apart. There were not many left now to provide for them, so they had to provide for themselves and hope that the cold would pass soon. The blood of her mother marred her pale snout but she did not seem to mind it more than if it was some sort of prey. This was survival. This was just.

Once she had eaten her fill, the pale youth wordlessly started to take bits of the corpse and bring them to caches. Near the body she made a cache where she put in most of the body's remains, so that the birds could not easily take it while she carried away the rest. Then she divided the rest over various caches so they may always find something to eat across the territory.

Lastly, the pale youth started to pick apart the pelvis bone for it would be a holy symbol that she would place upon one of the blackfeather woods' altars.