Tamara smiles softly and nods, padding closer, crunching the snow udner her big paws, tail flicking, looking quite happy. She gives Bitsa a soft lick on his nosepad.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">- Thanks, my friend. Thanks a lot, I do really appreciate this,</span>she tells him, before taking a hold of the weak fawn.<br/><br/>Being smaller than Bitsa, the famwn will find the tigress maw much less comfortable than the big tiger's, but that doesn't changes the fact he's doomed to become kittyfood. His hopes of escaping, which came up when Bitsa released him, are crushed when she sees another maw opens and closes around his head. The wau Tamara's ears are eprke dup, and the happy flicking of her tail should tell the big tiger how much she does appreciate the gesture, and the so tender meat.<br/><br/>She wastes no time though, and swallows the fawn down, her neck bulging as she does so. Her sandpaper tongue licks the squirming small deer all over, coating it with copious amount of her drool, and getting a better taste of it in the process. A low murring can be felt, more than heard, vibrating the cool air of the clearing, emanating from the tigress as she gets more and more of the fawn down her throat. She makes small pricks on the fawn with her sharp fangs, the taste of blood havign always been her favourite, only adding to her pleasure of taking down such a tasty morsel, whole and squirming.<br/><br/>Soon, only the faintly kicking hindlegs of the fawn are sticking out of her muzzle, and she tilts her head back a bit, slurping them down, the bugle on her neck easily seen, the outlines of the fawn's form easilyr ecognizable, as it slides down deeper and deeper. Once the fawn is secured inside her stomach, now slightly stretched out, she let out a satisfied purring, licking her lips and smiling. She can feel it squirms around on her gut, and she seems to appreciate the feeling.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">- Youw ere right, Bitsa, it is a very wonderous feeling! Thanks again!</span>