The end of the beast’s life drew nigh as it struggled in vain against the combined efforts of their muscle and teeth. Beneath her sinking fangs, she could feel the contractions of her hind quarters as the doe kicked and thrashed to no avail to release the predators from her form. When death was the end that awaited her, she fought hard against it expelling what energy she could spare, effectively tiring herself out more as precious life faded from her.
And then stillness overcame the thrashing form and silence soon after. The golden body still clung to its hindquarters eventually dislodged but kept the weight of her front firmly laid across the fallen deer’s back almost possessively. But it was in fact a tactic to spare the hide from further damage of frenzied teeth. The meat rich with blood was perhaps more important than the outer skin, but to the Nomad it was just as a valuable if not more. Aside from the tears made by her claws the hide was relatively intact and therefore still had a use. Once the meat was sectioned and its innards were freed she would skin the beast and leave its bones and lesser meats for the scavengers.
But while those actions were for the future, her mind was brought to the present once more, observing her smaller counterpart as he ‘prayed’ over the life they had taken. The she-wolf tilted her head curiously, finding it odd that he would do such a thing. To her, so long as one didn’t kill more than one buck or take the life of too many females, they would not starve and the cycle of life for their quarry would continue. Was it necessary to think this deceased creature? To her the act itself as an oddity, but she had a greater respect for other cultures than her own to question the actions. Instead she quietly observed as he took a portion of meat and wedge it between the crevice of a tree to feed the scavengers that could reach. Had she not uttered a firm bark to retrieve her companion, the owl would have undoubtedly gone to the meat and had it for himself.
Instead the great bird veered from the tree and returned to his master’s shoulder with a rough peck to her head. He gave an ill tempered hoot directly into her ear, scolding the wolf for robbing him of an easy meal. “Behave,” she chided, rounding her shoulder to adjust his sharp, wet talons. She would feed him his reward for a well done job once Saul had his fill. The practice by herself and Saluce was well preserved when it came to the hunt. Whomever made the killing blow had their fill before the other was called to join. It was a strange ritual for the more civilized of their infected brethren, but for them it was an instinctual practice beginning when the two first hunted together and continued to even now. But this present arrangement lacked the leniency allotted by the two lovers, allowing them to feed at the same time despite who made the kill. It was not her teeth that delivered the killing blow, but Saul’s and thus he was permitted to eat first regardless of their difference in rank.
Patiently, she remained reclined on the hindquarters of the carcass, watching the boy expectantly with an agitated owl upon her shoulder.