//------------------------------//
// Hawkeye - Hunger I 
// Story: Gods 
// by TheTimeSword 
//------------------------------//

Within the massive domicile, in a corner, the mare had shrugged off her tiring saddlebags. She had unraveled the skins she had grabbed as she left the remnants of kin, plopping them down on the cold, hard floor. In one bag, she had the foodstuffs, in the other, she had her memories. Her stomach was aching with pain, but it had been that way for days, and she knew the reason why. 

Releasing the strap, she undid the hide and opened the cloth wrapped roots. Pulling down her hood and loosening the white fabric that wrapped around her muzzle, the mare bit down on the clay-colored vegetable. A resounding snap rang out, reverberating against the stone walls of the monstrous, lavish home. It reminded her of the cave; the noise would have angered the remnants of kin.

Peace surrounded her, and darkness would follow. No one gave her fearful looks or furious snarls. She ate how she wanted; she had no reason to hide the noise. The unseen would not hear. It was the fire that she worried would draw the eyes of a wandering god. Heat produced light, and in the night, light could be seen. A fire during the day - one to warm the bones beneath the rags of sewn hides - only meant smoke could be seen. Smoke did not draw the gods; perhaps they were accustomed to seeing it due to their destructive nature.

The mare would not have a fire on this day. She hadn't gathered kindling, she hadn't scouted the rest of the domicile that stood around her, and she hadn't made the much-needed sacrifice. 

Finishing the root vegetable, the mare wiped her mouth with the back of her hoof, smearing the hide's fur with crumbs. Rolling up the cloth, she tucked it back into the foodstuffs bag and peered through the other contents. At the bottom, in the bloodstained hide, she made sure the meat had not yet rotted. Carrying decayed meat was worse than carrying a fresh kill, the rot could not be used as a sacrifice. It would only draw the predators who hungered like her.

Wolves or bears or big cats, sometimes the occasional bird of prey. It did not matter who obtained the skinned rabbit, even though it was not meant for them. The unseen would follow the stolen meat and feast upon the thief. Or, if no wildlife took it, the unseen would have its meal of hare and be off to hibernate. For most occasions, either choice was valid, though the mare preferred the latter.

This was her only defense against the hungry gods.