A month has put little weight or strength onto the little ones. They lay and stare listlessly toward the cave's entrance. "Hungry," squawks one, followed by the other echoing the cry.

"I know," whispers their mother. "I'm hungry too. We'll get you meat. One way or the other, my little ones, we'll get you meat."

"Not today," come the words from down the cave, as father returns, empty beaked. "Nothing. Not a single deer, goat, rabbit... skies, there's not even birds in the air!"

"You're sleek enough," the mother growls accusingly, among eager cries of "Da! Hungry! Hungry dah!" from the babies, only barely fledging now, weeks late. "Enjoying your new post?""

The father snarls, "SHUT UP!" at the babies, who huddle together, and peep faintly to eachother. "Look, I didn't ask to be put on guard! Yeah, I eat pretty good now, but it's not going to last. You should see the other guys.... fat, I tell you! Nobody even knows who I am, anyway. Not like it matters." He snorts, and drags his claws over the stones, then stalks close to the glaring female.

The boy rests his head on the girl's back, drowsing. She watches silently, rock still, as her father forces his way atop his mate. Their empassioned screams echo painfully in the closed space, the violence of their mating more intense for the anger and pain and hunger. "Hungry," she whispers, belly aching and hurting.