Smoken Not Stirred [Cairo]

It had some taken some doing but Dómari had finally gotten a fire built. Not only that but he had a nice ring of flat stones going all the way around the fire that would offer a place to dry some of the deer meet from his kill. He'd had the luck to find a six-month old fawn injured. Between him and his companions he'd been able to bring it down and carry it back into Valhallan territory. Now all he needed to do was skin the deer and dry some of the meat.

Dómari moved over to the deer while the foxes tended to the fire. He wrapped his teeth around its neck where he'd made the killing blow and slowly and methodically began to work his teeth around the neck in a ring and then slowly he started moving down the animals ventral side, looking to make a nice cut all the way down the middle. He moved particularly carefully across the belly. He didn't want to accidentally puncture the intestines and spill all kinds of weirdness into the meat if he didn't have to.