The Silverwolf
He smelled like the lazy heat of the sun settling in a pine forest, warm, peaceful, and safe.
Skye in return licked under my chin and wagged his tail.
Settling side by side, we dug into the soft underbelly of the fallen doe. I took the liver in two ravenous bites, sinking my muzzle into the cavern I had begun to excavate in the deer’s rib cage. Blood stained my fur and half blinded me but the gobs of hot rich viscera sliding down my throat was well worth it.
Between two hungry werewolves, one deer rapidly became a pile of bones and scraps of blood drenched fur.