Carson was, indeed, thrown the occasional bale of hay, and in order to eat it, found himself forced to shift into his lamb form. Not that it made any difference. Given the low temperature inside the pit, they spent more time in their second shapes, using their clothes as bedding. Brody seemed to be quite adept in coming up with food out of nothing, but the strain was beginning to show. More often than not, both he and Carson spent their days digging into the hard ground, looking for the occasional worm. It was gross, but the animal inside Carson acknowledged these things were, for Brody, food, and it would help his mate survive. Carson’s only comfort was that they were carefully watched. Each day the wolves above looked inside the pit, checking on Brody’s condition. Brody snarled at them, and Carson would have considered telling his mate to tone it down if the situation didn’t look so dire. As it were, he doubted any change in their behavior—other than a severe health problem—could convince the wolves to let them out.
