[m]Lost it
#3
The butterflies whispered a warning just before her hand touched his shoulder. Amber eyes blinked, turning his gaze to the creamy furred canine. Amy. For a moment, he felt a stab of heat, and he released it, letting go. Her words were met with his trademark grin. "Thanks." Though his hands were still busy with the task of cleaning the meat off his pelt, his eyes were gauging her, wondering if she were also held to a vow of abstaining from inner-pack violence. After all, their last meeting hadn't resulted in violence, just annoyance on his part.

She wasn't all that bad, he concluded. He only hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Feel free to join me. I have some jerky and a couple canteens of water in my pack." Sometime after the violence but before the gutting of the corpse, he had shed the pack to get to his tools. Granted, the jerky was his own special (canine) jerky, rather than the typical venison or cow, but he never really thought it was important to explain. If asked he would elaborate on his beliefs, but as of yet no one had actually asked him.

Whether Amy joined him or not at his fire, his eyes would drift back to his task, gauging his progress and whether or not it was time to tent the hide over the fire as well to cure the freshly scraped side of the hide.


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