Dam's stomach is smaller than both of theirs. Even picking at the edges of the kill, he's full long before either of the werewolves. He lays off to one side, drowsily licking his muzzle clean.

The black one pulls off the femur, daintily stripping off the last of its meat before cracking the bone to get at the marrow within. It's a last treat; there isn't enough left on the carcass to make it worth bringing back to their makeshift den.