Stick 'em with the pointy end
07-10-2015, 11:10 AM
Lyre's jaws clamped down around the femur, cracking it between her teeth. The sound was distinctly satisfying. She licked her lips before grasping the bone in a new place, crunching it there as well. As splinters of bone fell away, she dragged her tongue along the exposed marrow, humming with pleasure at the rich taste. A fresh cut above her eye stung anew each time she opened her maw, stretched the skin of her face, but she did not mind. It had been a good fight, chasing that rogue off of the kill, but she gave most of the victory's credit to the element of surprise. He'd been so focused on stuffing his face that he'd never heard her coming. She gripped a piece of flesh between her incisors and pulled it away. Spring had brought new life to this otherwise arid landscape, and Lyre was loving every minute of it. The winter had been hard on her, reducing the femme to a daily grind of searching for food and sleeping. It was no way to live, as if she were some sort of base creature. She thought, not for the first time, of migrating towards the interior of the continent. Life was more abundant there, and wolves moved about in thicker number. She was not lonely, did not crave company, so much as she was bored. The desolate region she'd called home did not seem to house even a single pack! There were certainly pros and cons. She lurched to her feet, leaving the bone behind in favor of a nearby haunch. She doubted she would have much more time on the kill before being chased off by mountain lions or another rogue. Such was life, and making use of every second available to her would make all the difference. |
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