The small boy continued to chew on the bones of his last kill. The marrow was mostly sucked out now, but he continued to grind it against his teeth desperately. He wasn’t starving, but it felt good to chew something. Even though it wasn’t filling his belly, it was giving him the satisfaction of almost eating something.
He snapped one of the small rabbit bones between his canines, angrily spitting it out. The slivers of it poked his tongue, making the yearling whimper then growl. He grabbed another bone- this one belonging to the spine, and began to mindlessly gnaw. It was hot- too hot to find something else to eat. It was making him irritable and more touchy than usual.
He didn’t want to hunt again until the sunset. The bones were going to have to keep him preoccupied for a few hours at least. Running his tongue along the side of the spinal cord he preyed the coyotes weren’t going to interrupt his snack.