Well, I Feel Sheepish

Mæva squared her shoulders and continued to pull with Geira's help, dragging the corpse of a bighorn sheep into the shade. Not that the vultures had that much trouble picking up the scent. They landed nearby and watched the struggling yearling. Already the corpse had been picked and pecked at, most of the entrails had already been consumed.

It was a yearling male and so Mæva wasn't quite sure what had killed it but one of the legs was broken. Whether that was done by a predator or a simple accident it was hard to say but either way she wasn't keen on letting such an opportunity pass by. Her caracal companion leapt for the vultures with a snarl, sending them scattering back into the air. Mæva was hoping to dry some of the meat as well as harvest the horns to use as a container. The hide was pocked full of holes and she wasn't sure that was worth salvaging. The meat she could do but did they have the energy to keep fending off vultures? As for the horns… she had no idea how to get them off. It looked like a terrible lot to chew through.