And he had nothing consistent to live off of.
This besides a little cave, a little crevice under a rock. Enough to go inside and curl into a ball and scratch with his little paws at the itchy parts of his fur while black beady eyes drooped and tail curled lengthwise to wrap around his body as he slept.
And when he wakes, he’s hungry.
Hungry.
It’s a raw feeling, like another being crawling inside him, shifting his biology altogether.
His body aches as he rises and sidles out of the rock, taking jerky steps to stretch himself out. Then he stands on his hind legs, two little front paws tucked at the sides, sniffing the air.
The sun’s warmth feels good and a gentle breeze causes his whiskers to quiver slightly.
He’s back to all fours now and will navigate by smell to a nearby growth of vegetation he hopes carries food.
He travels on hard dirt, blanketed by leaves his paws often sink into. And it’s sometimes that one of his claw-nails will pierce a leaf and he’ll be picking up the paw for another step and feel that he’s brought the whole leaf up with him uncomfortably against his body and he has to shake his paw and freak out slightly at the odd disability.
But this doesn’t worry him. And when he arrives, there are plenty of berries.
Some bright red and others a dark, juicy black. When he sees them he cannot bear his craving any longer and he runs to grab the nearest one with both paws, which claws pierce and cause beads of thick, syrupy juice to run from the berries into his mouth and over his face, dripping into the ground, staining it a deep purple.
Delicious and fresh and sweet. He eats until he cannot eat anymore.