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Weekly Contest #334
Hunger was a terrible beast. It twisted and tore at her insides, drying up what little milk she had left. Two of her pups had already succumbed; the remaining three were but patches of fur covering sharp edges. They’d be lucky to see another day. A brisk spring draught breezed through the wolf’s den, bringing with it the scent of iron and smoke—a scent she'd come to fear, after its wearer killed her siblings, as well as her mate, not all that long ago. Still, it had her mouth watering. However dangerous, it might very well have been her ...
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