Grouse Thicket variations under domestication

It has been some time since he'd caught the fish. He'd only become weaker the longer he goes without food and it has become near impossible to catch anything. Every attempt he's made has resulted in failure, especially when he's limited to fish and birds. Which just so happen to be the two things he's horrible at. It doesn't make it any easier, either. He trailed alongside the bank of a stream until he became too tired of his failed attempts at fishing and moved further away, searching for something he could wrap his paws around. He can't remember a time when he'd enjoyed life at this point, things constantly becoming a blur from one to the next of searching for food. 

Unsure if it'll ever end, if he'll ever find land that is lush and green as if it had never been touched, he hears a noise that catches his attention. For a moment, he might be able to forget, as a large, not quite plump grouse catches his attention. Seemingly impacted by the famine, Bowie is sure he'll be able to catch something nearly as slow as he, and so his feet hit the ground running once he's close enough. It runs a few steps but as the starved wolf makes his pounce, the bird catches flight—enough to get away from hungry, snapping jaws—and for Bowie to slam his shoulder into a tree. 

He cries out and crumbles to the ground, feeling a sickening pain in his shoulder. It forces a heave, his diaphragm forcing him to gag with nothing to produce but acidic bile filling the back of his throat. He licks his lips a few times to try and swallow it back and staggeringly he makes it to his feet to test the damage he'd done.

*rushes in*

Althaia head was swirling. This week had been a rather exciting one- full of encounters with lone wolves and pack wolves alike. There had been the stunning red female, the grey male she had tended to, and the pack wolves that seemed to be everuwhere in the highlands. However, prey was still gone, and Althaia was growing weaker. The hare she had caught a day ago had given her enough energy to move on, but she needed more prey, soon.
Therefore, she was elated when she found the water vole. The tiny creature scurried along the banks of a small stream, straight toward Althaia's hidding place. She crouched in anticipation, as the vole came near-
A cry of pain broke the silence, startling the water vole and Althaia both. The little thing turned and ran, and Althaia pounced, but too late. It was gone. The she-wolf's ears flick in the direction of the sound, and without hesitation she lopes quickly toward the voice. Pain, in any medium, compells her to help in some way. 
She found him quickly, the male, thin like all the wolves were. She stopped a short distance away, out of sight, and watched in shock as he dry-heaved and shakily stood. She stepped forward, head bowed in submision. "Greetings, sir. My name is Althaia, and I am training to be a healer. I heard your shout, and I wanted to know if I could help, sir." She said, perhaps a little to quickly.