He just... stares at it. It was once a rabbit but now, it lies torn at the mouth of the den. Its head is gone, or at least, no longer recognizable. What replaces it is a lazy trail of dark crimson, dried into the earth as the sun beats down on the Glorall terrain. He simply watches, knowing well that it will not move and yet, he cannot help it. Such things arrive almost daily, given to them by a larger, paler wolf than his mother. He does not speak often when he comes, though Elohim has had his name spoken several times. Each time, he takes a certain fondness to it. He is used to silence, after all, or at least a very quiet life. His mother is not a large talker.

So, he is thankful for this new find. It is fresh - he has already approached it several times, pressing his nose against the luscious fur. It is vaguely warm still, fresh with the scent of blood and saliva. The fur is so soft, though. He cannot help but shift closer and closer the longer he watches, until he is laying beside it. He lays parallel to it, flopped over on his side with his paws pressed into its softness. He takes pleasure in the sun's warmth, too, as he basks there, satisfied entirely by his predicament. He is warm, comfortable and with a new play thing. Though he savors it now, he will soon be upon it with a fierce hunger. His teeth are sore. They beg for some kind of reprieve.

He idly questions where his siblings are. Are they still in the den? He feels as if he has been out there so long. It is too good to leave and yet, he does wish to have some kind of fun. It is fun, sure, by himself and yet, such fun increases with each of his siblings. Erebos, Eros and Nemesis. He does wish they were with him, though he is content to bask in his alone time for now. After all, it means he can stretch out further - with a wide mouthed yawn, of course - and enjoy his furry friend all to himself.