Holes had been blocked off, Whistler had set her snares in well-chosen places, and everyone was waiting for the word. **Be ready, all of you,** Lightstone cautioned. **All right, beloved
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Moss scrambled to keep up with Slaptail; her hands were deft enough, but her legs were giving her some difficulty in keeping up with the excited wolf. She snatched one of the fleeing rodents awkwardly by a leg, and wrung its neck with a quick, efficient motion. Small it might be, but her mouth watered at the hint of blood-scent in the air. There might be a nip or two, but by the High Ones, there'd be warm red meat soon!
Whistler left the fleeing diggers to her tribemates, intent on clearing the traps she'd set. As she came to each one, she snatched up the kill, tying it the the others. Now and then she had to finish the job with a good hard snap of the neck, or a sharp twist on the leather thong, but the snares had mostly done their job
( ... )
Whistler stacked her catch neatly to one side and sat and watched the rest of the tribe in their endeavors. While they were still catching, she would be breaking her fast. It wasn't her style, but she was too hungry to wait.
Carefully skinning her chosen digger, she laid the pelt aside and inspected it for any remaining tufts of fur. Ooooh, she hated picking those out of her teeth!
She tore a large strip of flesh from the digger. She savored the warm meat, rending with her sharp teeth, licking the salty blood from her lips.
After finishing her meal, she discarded the bones and leaned back against a scraggly little tree and folded her hands on her slightly distended belly with a sigh of pleasure, replete.
The only thing that would have made this better was if she hadn't been bit. The wound was still oozing a bit. She gave it a small lick and sealed the wound with a bit of grit beforing wrapping it up again. leaning back, she waited.
Seeing a hunt up close was interesting. The drumming of paws and the pattering of little feet created a large, energetic "wave" in the Song that almost.... tickled, in a way. Silent laughed without sound, half seeing, half feeling everyone's actions as his tribe pounced and grabbed and snatched and snarled, some cheering someone else on, some laughing, some stumbling and tumbling in the half-mad chaos
( ... )
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Carefully skinning her chosen digger, she laid the pelt aside and inspected it for any remaining tufts of fur. Ooooh, she hated picking those out of her teeth!
She tore a large strip of flesh from the digger. She savored the warm meat, rending with her sharp teeth, licking the salty blood from her lips.
After finishing her meal, she discarded the bones and leaned back against a scraggly little tree and folded her hands on her slightly distended belly with a sigh of pleasure, replete.
The only thing that would have made this better was if she hadn't been bit. The wound was still oozing a bit. She gave it a small lick and sealed the wound with a bit of grit beforing wrapping it up again. leaning back, she waited.
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**Sev-I mean, six,** she replied, delicately licking a small blood fleck from the back of her hand, twirling a snare absently with the other.
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