“This meat is tough,” he complained
gnashing through the medium rare loin
still dripping with chewy sinew
blank of fatty marbling
that is necessary for flavor
“and it tastes gamey.”
She snorted, ignoring him
grateful for a meal
regardless of how paltry.
While he was busy fighting the war
and reclaiming the land
she had to hunt
rather than gather.
Prey had become scarce.
All that was left
were mushrooms and rodents
or the occasional 
emaciated human
that somehow survived
the beast’s return
from the underearth.
Their hunger depleted
their bones until 
not even good
for broth
but she may be able
to repurpose
the ribs 
into combs 
for her hair.