Barrow Fields the oblong box

The prey weakened. Fell to it's knees. Bled out. Gave up the fight from the pressure of so many pairs of jaws. With a savage toss of his skull, Relic tore the throat open. The last gust of air washing hotly over his bloodied face. 

The pack had succeeded in their task. A fine meal for everyone. As ravenous as he was, he waited his turn in line. Deferring to his leaders, his elders, who would eat first. And when his turn came, he filled his belly with glutton.