Digging, digging, digging, your mind filled with rot and decay, the hunger gnawing at your belly with delicious anticipation. Your heavy paws move in rhythmic fashion as you pull up clods of dirt, the doe's lifeless eyes seeming to look in your direction as it lay prone.
The red dusk casts a grim light upon the scene. Somewhere far in the distance an owl hoots, the only sound now interrupting your stilted conversation regarding the dead.
And then there are two, both of you working diligently toward the same grotesque purpose. Suddenly your claws scrape stone, and you swear you catch a glimpse of glowing blue -
- but a large clump of earth is dislodged and falls, covering it, and the promise of dinner and perhaps something more pulls you back to your shared task.
Digging, digging, digging...