So this is probably a really stupid question
but
What do dogs eat?
I mean
I know what they eat normally
it's just
Considering
our predicament
& limited resources.

Mammalia aren't exactly my area of expertise.

PS- I got a light to turn on. [ aka phase one of the grid: complete. ]

I've made some sticks.

[ The video begins as if in mid conversation, because hey, we're all friends, here. Hawke's voice is audible as the speaker, but the feed is pointed downwards, where a cluster of -- indeed -- sticks are gathered on the ground. Or rather, roughly crafted staves. A sense of scale gives the impression that they're at least five to six foot in length, trimmed and mostly polished smooth, ends blunted. The video doesn't move from this view throughout. ]

They're for hitting one another with, although allegedly, some skill goes into it. Not fancy, when compared to your amazing thunder blast wands [ he knows they're called 'guns', probably ] but at least they don't run out of anything. If you'd like to learn how to hit things with sticks really well, I'll be practicing west of camp. We can have a go at each other. It'll be fun.

[ Definitely for Hawke, anyway. ]

[The feed opens on a view of the jungle, dark as night falls over the trees. A fire burns in a pit to the right side of shot, the orange glow flickering across the trunks, the crackle and spit of burning logs. Boots come into frame, Riddick dropping to his haunches in front of the camera, only his hands and their recognisable guards visible. He's holding something. A medium-sized creature, limp in death.]

Got a sickness in the animals. [He holds the animal closer to the camera, showing the state of it. Bony ridges breaking through fur, misshapen limbs, blood crusted around its eyes. Sickly. Unnatural.] You see any, kill them. Burn the bodies.

[He rises to stand, boots turning, and the corpse is thrown onto the fire.]

So since no one else is going to talk about it...

Let's do a vote. Show of hands. How many of you think we're all alone here? A whole planet of pretty woods, jut for us. And how many of you think that we can't be alone. Maybe there's some city out there. Too bad you can't leave the camp.

And how many of you think that we're, like, totally surrounded. I hear that's a thing. Because there's spears, and they're stealing from us. Blah, blah. Tell me something real. If there's someone out there? I'd like to get to them first. I'd like to think everyone would agree with me, but I'm sure I'd be wrong.

Actually, you know what I'd love? I'd love for them to come by and try to get at my stuff. Consider this an invitation.

[ the mirror-shard is clutched in derek's hand. he's obviously unsteady on his feet, being buffeted about by the wind, but he shoves a mask briefly into frame before moving it aside to scowl down at the mirror. ]

Don't put them on.

[ important psa's that can't wait for sobriety, as much as derek resents having to both address people via mirror and do it while wind-drunk. ]

They're dangerous. Don't do it.

I’ve captured two of them.

[ Erik is still short of breath, teeth and eyes cut bright against the mud smeared swarthy around the cinderblock of his head. ]

Juveniles. They’re penned in the clearing outside of camp.

[ He blinks hard, blind eye rolling white in its socket. ]

I’m not sure what to feed them.

OOC: Backdated to just after the stampede. OOC post with details here.