The white wolf, without ceremony, fiercely tore open the thick pig belly. The moment the rank organs spilled out, their scent was an irresistible aroma of food to the wolf pack.
These wild pigs had little fat, especially since it wasn't winter. Beneath their skin lay mostly muscle, making their innards the most nutritious part.
The other wolves, witnessing this, couldn't help but draw closer. However, the white wolf suddenly lifted its head, its fierce gaze sweeping over the surrounding gray wolves. All of them immediately prostrated themselves in submission.
This was its prey. Only after it had finished eating would the others have their turn.
This was the privilege of the Wolf King, and also a symbol of strength.
Before long, the white wolf finished eating and left the tattered corpse. The remaining wolves then surged forward, tearing and scrambling for the scraps.
The piglets were also devoured by the wolves. To them, all flesh was meat, with no distinction.
