Cyanide and happiness

ooc: you can check them out here - http://explosm.net/comics/3585/ - they update them every day. Jokes are sometimes crude, sometimes very funny and sometimes makes you think.

Pump was blissfully unaware of the inner struggle Ragnar had regarding the Isle wolves. In her opinion - they were unpleasant to have around, but as long as they didn't bother Horizon ridge wolves, she was willing to tolerate them. After all survival was about making the right decisions at the right time. Any attempts in driving these fellows away might end in a victory, but the cost would be physical injuries and with their healer off duties and cubs that would require more food every passing day, they couldn't afford to have them. For now Pump had decided to deter from confrontation and observe the other party carefully.

As much as neccessary source of fibre the grass was to her diet, it still was neither tasty nor pleasant to consume. It had the bad tendency of getting stuck to the roof of her mouth or mid-way in her throat, causing more than one coughing spell to occur. She was in the middle of such one, when Ragnar appeared seemingly out of nowhere and greeted her. She cast a quick glance at him, acknowledging his greeting, but continued to retch and cough. When she was done, she gulped down the piece of grass and held her muzzle up for a little while, waiting until it slid down to her stomach.

"What's new on the isle front?" Pump asked, tilting her head to the side.