Meadowlark Prairie someone to rely on as thunder comes a-rolling down

astara’s face was one drawn in effort as she continued to chew through sinew, masticating the gristly flesh with a look of concentration on her features. she startled as the woman rose, her gaze accusing — but then re-settled to her task, watching as the she-wolf softly spoke and then departed. 

astara had never been one for companionship; her gaze was cold as she worked bloodied buck between her tongue. the woman had given her a gift in the buck, but astara was not sentimental. 

after several minutes of struggle, astara rose with the severed head in tow. it was a gristly sight; the buck’s tongue lolled from its bloodied mouth, and the spine dangled exposed as she walked. the skull would serve a future purpose, but for now the blackfeather wolf hauled it homeward, leaving carnal plumes of red in her wake.