Every breath I breathe

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And despite everything against it—

Everything remained the same.

Unchanged, and unending.

Relentless.

Absence didn’t make the heart grow fonder, and forward he stomped. Heavy-footed, with broad, curling shoulders. Brooding and defensive.

“Outta the way, shit-stain.” He grouched, moving to bodily shove past the red-furred, stupidly-fucking-fluffy dumbass digging in the dirt.

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He paused.

His curiosity piqued.

“Are they poisoned?” He asked, his back still turned.

Because why the fuck else would Shit-stain be so determined to ‘share’ them with unsuspecting strangers?

Little shit was probably fucking planning something.

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‘They're such a rare find I would love to share them with someone.’

“Uh huh.” He grunted. His expression flat as he let fucking Shit-stain do whatever the fuck he said he would do, following just behind.

Yeah, sure, whatever, they were a rare find, love was involved, and there was a beam of pure unfettered sunshine coming out his ass and every other fucking orifice Shit-stain had.

Spare him the emotional fucking bullshit.

They were just truffles.

A shitty fucking food that came from the fucking ground.

Seriously, where was the thrill? The hunt? The adrenaline and exhilaration that come from hunting a moose, packmates surrounding and watching as he delivered the killing blow? The feeling of moose’s nostrils and mouth in his muzzle, suffocating?

There wasn’t any.

He huffed.

Sat.

Smacked his lips, once, twice.

His ears cocked.

The sound of the wind, the grass, the fucking noise of Shit-stain hollowing out the very earth itself.

Zoning out.

And coming back to the view of Shit-stain’s ass wiggling about in the dirt, stupid and as fucking feathered as could be.

His ears rolled back against his head.

“You eat any old shit you dig up from the dirt often, Shit-stain?” He leered.

Would probably fucking explain why he acted like that.

Mom probably fed him a fucking mushroom when he was nursing or some other fucked up shit.

They were better than that.

His mom would never let him go traipsing about eating shit off the ground, if the old hag had ever actually paid any fucking attention on him when he was a puppy instead of only on the old man and pack bullshit.

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“Uh huh.” He grunted, yet again, as Shit-stain wiggled and danced about.

Watching, as he emerged from what might as well have been the fucking center of the earth with how fucking long he took, with a single brown, dirty, crumbling clump.

And he was actually pretty fucking amazed at how well Shit-stain was holding up his end of the fucking bargain. Which was, taking half of it in his mouth with zero hesitation or fear and not only fucking chewing it but also seemingly fucking swallowing the thing.

If it was literal, actual fucking shit, buried and dug up from the earth, Shit-stain had some fucking acting chops, with the way he seemingly savoured the fucking brown clump. And if it wasn’t, well, he’d do his best to treat the entire scenario like it was actually the former happening.

Shit-stain passed him his half, and because he wasn’t a fucking coward—

He ate it.

Chewing it, clumsily, between his jaws. Bits and pieces dropping loose from his mouth because of the highs and lows of, y’know, having a mouth not fucking built to eat the fucking shit. Throwing his head backwards to try and actually chew the fucking shit with his fucking molars instead of having it get all over him and his fucking chest and feet, and—

It tasted, admittedly, good.

Tasted, the way a forest smelled, the way a forest looked.

But he wasn’t about to let Shit-stain fucking know that, so—

“Tastes fucking terrible.” He grunted. Making a show of chewing with his front teeth, canines and incisors and pre-molars as more crumbled and fell out on the ground than what was swallowed.

“See you the fuck around, Shit-stain.” He sneered. Already standing up and hip-checking the loser.

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