Swiftcurrent Creek little puppet made of pine.

Fig's nose wrinkled at her description of the meat's flavor. It didn't smell particularly terrible, but he had no reason to doubt her. He'd never eaten wolverine before. He’d never been particularly finicky about his meals, but he did hesitate this time. Only for a moment though before he leaned down and dug his teeth into the meat, tearing off a slice and swallowing it nearly whole.

It was not good.

His face scrunched in clear distaste. The meat was unpleasant, to say the least. It was tough to force himself to chew, let alone eventually swallow. It was as though the creature was made of pure gristle—not what anyone would call fine dining by any stretch of the imagination.

It took a while, but Figment finally found the will to swallow the meat, if only as a means of escaping the experience of eating it in the politest way possible. He looked at River, his opinion of the meal clearly written on his face for a moment until it sudden shifted into one of thoughtful contemplation. ”You know… it truly tastes like what you’d expect of a wolverine,” he commented, ”Tough and very unpleasant. Just like the animal itself.”

They managed only a few more bites between the two of them before moving on, eventually parting ways and leaving Fig glad to have seen his old friend again.