The druid takes no especial care to be gentle; once the agitated lizard is lifted to a level with his own mouth, Chrrou releases his prey from his grasp and lunges his normally-unthreatening maw forward. A bare moment later, the yawning gape of glistening flesh and near-harmless mousy teeth snaps shut around the point in the air containing the desperate Pact-breaker, and then only a small cheek-bulge that quickly becomes a downward-traveling lump in the mousefolk's throat serves to show Lon's presence. By the time Chrrou leans back against Heshaar once more, the only sign of his meal that remains is the licking of the druid's lips and an idle pawstroke against his stomach.<br/><br/>With that business finished, Chrrou laboriously hauls his winter blankets out of his sack, throwing one over the dire she-wolf and one about himself as he nestles in against her near the fire. "I need to rest now too," he murmurs. "Just... wake me if there's nobody else to tend the fire," he requests before turning his head and settling in for his two hours' sleep.<br/><br/>About now Lon might make the horrific discovery that despite his new body's smallness and vulnerability, it is every bit as resilient and enduring as the old, leaving him to suffer the digestive onslaught of the merciless rodent's gut for far, far longer than any creature of his stature ought to have to.