Morte's black optics surveyed the scene in front of her. Some dogs had decided to drop what seemed like half a ton of waste on top of the prey pile. She almost wanted to yell at them, "Hey, you guys realise what you're doing, right? Or are you just polluting our scratch prey?" But she'd decided better of it. Now, she wished she had yelled at 'em. Walking over disgustedly, the small pup dragged away with her strength power two weird containers, almost half the size of herself. They were fluffy, and seemed pretty hospitable. Except for the horrid stench that came off all the junk. Grumbling, Morte managed to drag it all off the Preypile and took a random piece of prey from the middle of the preykill pile.