Meadowlark Prairie XXXV

The gray Toweard paid no heed to anything but her mother and the meat. When Avicus motioned them closer, they let out a small yip and went to the very place where their teeth had torn into living flesh. Freshly dead, it was still hot and slick with the horse’s blood. They buried their ruddy muzzle to the hilt with a guttural growl.

Their teeth closed around tender entrails, pulling them free in a shower of gore and feasting on them before they could hit the ground. Masquerade’s tail flicked hither and thither as they bolted down mouthful after mouthful of horse meat, until their belly visibly distended from it. Only then did they back away from the carcass with a belch and stretch out beside the Wealda.