I glanced at his body, looked away. His throat was torn out. For a terrible instant I could recall how I had chewed down, the tendons of his throat taut against my teeth. I shut my eyes tight. I sat very still. Cold nose against my cheek. I opened my eyes. He sat beside me, regarding me. Cub. Nighteyes, he corrected me. My mother named me Nighteyes. I was the last of my litter to get my eyes open.
